


Stuffed

by Medeafic



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Biphobia, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub Undertones, Gags, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Slut Shaming, Sounding, Tears, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, mild choking, puppy play mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kink meme prompt: Just...sounding. Plus points for both of them being kind of nervous and awkward about it, regardless of who's receiving.</p><p>Actual plot summary: Chris and Zach fell into sex and kink somewhere along the way, but something's not quite right between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuffed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jouissant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/gifts).



> For the incredible Jouissant, plus dick smacking for RabidChild. Dedicated to the amazing people who frequent the Pinto Bar. <3

“Yeah. I don’t know about this.”

“I have to say--” Zach scrunches his nose at the rods in their case, open on his dresser. “--I feel like this could all go horribly wrong. But it won’t,” he adds hurriedly. “I promise.”

Chris points out: “They’re _huge_.” Zach told him before that they’re Hegar sounds, and he got them because they’re supposed to be the best for beginners. And okay, the slimmer rods in the left side of the case, they look like they might work. But those three in the right side? They’re _alarming_. They’re undeniably big. Wide. The diameter of his finger; maybe even his thumb. Chris was expecting skinny rods—and was promptly informed that the thin rosebud sounds created a totally different sensation. From Chris's description of what he wanted, these thicker, shorter sounds fit the bill. Apparently.

He says, "I was totally into it before. Before I saw these."

"Yeaaahhh."

"They just look very...you know?"

"I do know. You want to bail? Stick with a beej?"

"Mm." Chris looks at the metal rods again. The very first one is skinny enough to contemplate. And anyway—"It's _always_ a beej," he says, with a faint whiny undercurrent. _Oh, how terrible your life is, Pine,_ Zach is probably thinking. _Yet another blowjob. Alas, alack._

"I could fuck you," Zach offers. “I guess.”

"Wow. Don't put yourself out, man." But Chris laughs. "Let me just...I want to mull it over a second. It's one thing to fantasize; it's another to see steel laid out in front of you like this, you know?"

"I do know," Zach says again. And then he adds, "I did it once. Or twice."

Chris does a double take, horrified but fascinated. "Really?"

"Sure. When I was a dumb kid and I was just figuring out how everything worked. "

"Your mom had medical sounds lying around?"

"Not sounds, no. There's, uh. I used other...things." A wry smile twists his lips. "Not advisable."

Chris winces. "You're not making this more tempting.” He waves a hand at the sounds, nestled in their case. “Are they even sterile?"

"Of course. As sterile as they need to be.

“As they _need to be?_ ”

Zach sighs. “If only one person is using them—which they _will_ be—it’s not always necessary to follow a full sterilization process. Acceptable risks, Chris. We talked about those. Anyway, if you want them autoclaved, you’re out of luck. I guess we could put them in a pressure cooker; that’s the layman’s option.”

“A _pressure cooker_? My _mom_ uses a pressure cooker.”

“Not, I presume, to sterilize sex toys,” Zach says, a base note of irritation touching his tone.

Chris can feel his face contorting into a squinched look, and tries not to say anything. It was _his_ idea, after all.

“It was _your_ idea,” Zach says. He's pinked up in the cheeks, the color standing out against his pale Irish skin.

“I know.”

“We totally don't have to.”

“I know. I get that. Standard beej is also on the menu. This is the special of the day.”

Zach snorts. “I mean, we could try. If it weirds you out, we'll stop, right away. No harm, no foul. It's not supposed to hurt, if that's what you're worried about.”

“It's not.”

Zach bites his lower lip. “What did you like about the idea in the first place?”

Chris considers. What he likes about the idea is that it’s so _wrong_. Something going in where stuff should be coming out. And maybe a bit of playing doctors. Maybe. And the idea that it _could_ all go horribly awry gives him a familiar thrill down his spine. He shifts. Things have definitely perked up.

“Transgression,” he says aloud. “Med-play. And, I don’t know. Maybe the danger aspect.”

“It’s not dangerous done right,” Zach points out. “Or shouldn’t be. The risk is small.”

“You asked what I liked about the idea. That’s what I liked about the idea.” How did they even get here, to the point where they’re trading sex acts like baseball cards? _Who else,_ Chris reminds himself, _do you know who would lay down cash on a fetish just because you said you liked the idea?_

Zach starts to shut the rods back up in their case.

“Wait.” Chris lays a hand on his wrist.

Zach looks at him, his lips parted and his eyes owlish behind his glasses. His hair is so lush these days. Chris wonders whether he’s started using some new product. He pushes a hand through Zach’s hair even as he thinks it, brushing it back off his frowny forehead.

“I thought,” Zach says, and then stops.

“I was mulling. I have now mulled.”

“And?”

“Yes.”

“You want to try?”

“I want to try.”

Zach looks pleased, which makes Chris even more inclined. “So how do you want me?” he asks. It comes out lower and sultrier than maybe he meant it, but hey, Zach’s about to shove stainless steel up his wang. If ever there were a moment to cultivate sultriness, this is it.

“Well, I gotta get some gloves on, and…” Zach prattles on; the upshot, when Chris tunes back in, is that Zach wants him to go take a shower and then get on the bed.

When Zach gets an idea in his head—or more properly, when Chris puts one there—he has a tendency to overthink it. Over-research it. Over-everything it. And he talks a lot; likes to share even the smallest piece of trivia he’s found in his travels. Chris has learned to listen for key words that might be important. It’s not that he doesn’t find the other stuff interesting; it’s just that he’s more of a big-picture guy. He likes the feel of something without necessarily having to know how it’s done.

Like not wanting to know how sausages are made.

They’ve been doing this for a while now, experimenting. That’s what Zach calls it. Chris doesn’t like using the word. The negative connotations seem to him too close to the surface. But Zach sees it like a real experiment, like he might even stumble on a cure for the common cold while he’s trying different enema recipes on Chris. (Now _that_ was a big weekend.)

And then sometimes the experiments lean more towards scoping Chris’s sensitivity when receiving an expert and highly enjoyable blowjob. Chris likes to reciprocate, but he doesn’t pad it in experimentation—not with language and not with props.

Zach does. Chris has even caught Zach taking notes occasionally. It’s like Zach can’t let himself be anything but objective about the whole thing and someday, Chris knows, someday that might cause a problem between them.

But not today.

He showers, and washes himself carefully in Zach’s en suite with the antibacterial soap Zach insisted he use. Wrapped in a low-slung towel, he comes back into the bedroom. Zach has set out a lot of worrying-looking items on a tray, including a syringe. And there’s a blindfold laid out at the foot of the bed.

Chris reaches for the blindfold immediately. “Nice. Might be better this way,” he says.

Zach nods. “I figured. But if you want to take it off, just let me know.”

Chris gives a chuckle. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.” There’s no way he’s going to want to watch this.

“Drink this first.” Zach hands him a tall glass brimming with a deep pink liquid. Chris takes an obedient mouthful, and almost spits it back in the glass.

“Cranberry juice?” he splutters.

“Unsweetened,” Zach says in confirmation. “Supposed to help with UTIs, _and_ —” He pauses to run a finger down Chris’s chest, and then prods him lightly. “—this game we're playing is supposed to feel even better with a full bladder.”

That shouldn’t be the thing to make Chris blush, but it is. "I don't have a UTI," he mumbles.

"Good," Zach says briskly. "And I'll do my best to avoid giving you one. Juice. Blindfold. Bed. Now."

Damn it, Chris loves it when Zach gets this way. It's hard to object to being the focus of so much intensity, such determination to make him feel good, feel great, feel things he's never felt before. He dutifully drinks down his juice, ties the blindfold across his eyes, and allows Zach to help him onto the bed.

He sits half-propped up on the pillows. Zach shifts him to remove his towel, and then checks the blindfold is secure. Zach's hands withdraw, and Chris turns his head instinctively. He can hear Zach moving around next to the bed. The faint _tinking_ of metal on metal makes him shiver. He rubs his hands up and down his inner thighs. He’s not hard yet, and he feels like it might take some coaxing tonight, so he idly strokes a palm over his cock and gives it a squeeze.

“Stop that.”

He grins. “Make me,” he says, and keeps his hand right where it is—until a sharp rap over his knuckles makes him jerk it away. “Ow!” he says, shocked and outraged and laughing. He brings his hand into his chest and rubs his knuckles. “What the hell, man?”

“I _told_ you to stop it,” Zach says evenly. “You need to be flaccid while I insert the sound.”

“That is the least sexy thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth,” Chris declares.

“For the first time, anyway,” Zach continues over the top of him. “It’s easier. And now I can’t use the smallest sound at all, because you made me whack you with it.”

Chris tilts his head to the side as he takes this in. “Seriously?”

“I spent a lot of time cleaning these and making them as sterile as possible, and I don’t want to take any chances with transfer of bacteria,” Zach tells him in the finicky, _I’m doing science_ voice he reserves for times like these. And there’s a frisson of excitement and anxiety in his tone that’s keeping Chris slightly on edge. “I’m going to swab them all before I use them, of course, but I want to be extra careful for the first time.”

All, Chris notes. Before he uses them _all?_ “You couldn’t hit me with the biggest one? You just _had_ to take the smallest one out of commission?” He’s still rubbing his knuckles, even though they don’t hurt anymore. In fact, he’s getting closer to hand-wringing now.

“I forgot to take into account your insatiable need to put your hand on your dick,” Zach sighs. “I’ll have to remember to compensate for that next time.”

Chris swallows. He can hear the faint scratching of a felt-tipped pen across a pad of paper. Zach’s notes. He prays to God that Zach’ll keep those things locked up tight somewhere. Or shred them. Shredding would be best. Shredding and burning and burying them in salted earth.

But underneath the worry about what might become of Zach’s notes, Chris feels a small, warm appreciation for his care. He stops rubbing his hands together. Nevertheless, he asks, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

There’s a shifting of the bed and Zach’s lips close over his, soft and warm, just for a moment. “I know as much as I can possibly know in theory, and I’ve logged at least twenty hours of video watching on Xtube. It’s time for the practical exam now.”

“You didn’t, like…”

“Practice on myself?” Chris can feel him smiling as he drops another kiss. “My youthful adventures haven’t left me with the best memories. Couldn’t bring myself to do it. Kept remembering the look on my mom’s face—oh, God.” Chris can imagine his shudder.

“Ah,” Chris says knowingly. “Yes.” He’s pretty sure every young male has had an embarrassing Accidental Mom Walk-In. Zach’s sounds a lot more embarrassing than his was.

“I think you’d better move down towards the end of the bed. It will make the insertion easier,” Zach says, and then adds, “For me.”

“Oh, sure. That’s the important thing. Easy for you.” Chris grins, and wriggles his way down on the pillows until he’s lying flat. Firm hands close around his ankles and yank him right down the bed so his knees are bent off the end of it. He goes so fast the duvet makes a whooshing noise under his bare ass. “Hey!”

“Much better,” Zach’s voice says with satisfaction. “Well, I think we’re ready to begin. I’ll put some gloves on.”

Chris is alert to every tiny noise: the susurration of cardboard as Zach pulls out the latex gloves from a box; the plucking, snapping noise as he pulls them onto his hands. “This might be cold,” Zach’s disembodied voice says. It’s disorienting. Chris can’t quite tell where everything is anymore. Smooth, rubbery fingers grasp his shaft and he huffs in surprise. Something wet and chilly swabs the head of his dick.

He tenses when he feels a nudging sensation against his slit, bunches up the duvet in clutching hands on either side of his body.

“Not yet,” Zach says softly, but Chris doesn’t understand what he means, because _something_ is definitely happening. Something cold is entering him.

He shudders. “What—”

“Just lube. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet inside. Slippery.” Chris lets out a moan. “So I’m syringing some lube into your tip as well as coating the sound. Just a little; but it might sting for a second.” As Zach says it, Chris feels a mild burning sensation. But, as promised, it subsides quickly.

Chris lets out his breath.

“Alright so far?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“You’re getting hard,” Zach informs him, sounding displeased. “I should’ve made you jerk off before we started. Can you try to control yourself, please?”

Chris bites his lip and tries to think of something unappealing, although the way Zach is talking isn’t helping his dick situation. He pictures the sounds again, the largest one. That does it.

“Much better,” Zach says approvingly.

Chris snorts. “First time you’ve complimented me on a soft cock.”

“There are first times for everything, Christopher,” Zach replies. “Including this. Do you feel it?”

“Y-yes.” It’s cool metal, poised right at his piss slit. It’s pushing ever so slightly against him and into him and further—it’s in his tip. He can feel it. He can feel the way his body is starting to accept it. “Oh,” he gasps, and sinks further into the mattress.

“My thoughts exactly,” Zach breathes. “Are you sure it’s alright? Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll go slow.”

“It’s weird.”

“It’s beautiful,” Zach says, like he can’t keep the words in. Not so objective now.

For a second, Chris contemplates taking off the blindfold. But then the sensation becomes stronger—just this side of uncomfortable—now it’s definitely uncomfortable—“Can you go quicker?” he asks.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be easier to deal with.” It’s taking all his concentration not to squirm away.

“I told you: I can’t do that.” Zach sounds perfectly clinical again, completely in control. Once they’re done here, Chris thinks, he’s going to fuck that calm right out of Zach’s mouth. “No pushing. I need to let gravity do its job. And your body.”

“My body?”

“Yes. Your body is opening up for it. I wish you could see it. It’s amazing.”

Chris relaxes again. The discomfort has subsided, and although it still feels strange, it’s also starting to feel good. In fact, he’s starting to feel buzzed all over. He can hear the hitch in Zach's breath, the sigh he gives. “Zach?” he murmurs.

“Yes?”

“Tell me more about my body?”

“Sure. It’s my favorite topic, after all. The way I see it, your body is a work of art and I plan to become an expert on it.” That goes some way to explaining the notes, at least. Chris can feel the rod sliding in deeper now.

Zach is still talking. “Your body is fearfully and wonderfully made, baby, and it wants this. Can you feel how much it wants it? Your cock is opening up so nicely for me. No—don’t move.”

Chris can’t help moving. The sound is twisting slightly inside him, following its own natural S-curve. It’s turning and winding into him, opening him up. It occurs to him then, what this is. “You’re fucking me.”

“Yes.”

“You’re fucking my _cock_.”

“Yes, I am. And In fact, I think I’ll stop just about here. Yes. Halfway.”

Chris can feel it halfway inside him, or thinks he can. He wonders what it would feel like all the way down, can imagine it, dropped right into him, sitting pretty at the base of his cock. He’s getting hard. He can’t help it. Zach has been cradling his dick with one gloved hand, but now Chris feels it stroking him instead, gently. So gently.

“You said not to get hard,” Chris says desperately.

“Mm. I said it was easier to put in when you’re soft. Now it’s in. It’s time to play.”

Chris feels it sliding out of him, just an inch up, and then back in again. His mouth falls open.

“Good?” Zach asks.

It feels like nothing Chris has ever experienced before. “Good,” he manages to say. Zach’s latex-sheathed fingers move lower to his balls, and he kneads them for a moment. “ _Good._ ”

It’s the strangest thing, feeling his dick growing with something inside it. Chris is starting to appreciate the fact that Zach started a few sizes up. The sensation is new and unique, but he likes it. Oh, he likes it. He feels it move again, withdrawing a little and then gliding back in so easily it’s like he was always meant for this. Zach pulls it out a third time, and strokes Chris’s cock at the same time, more firmly now, with his other hand.

Fucked inside and out, Chris thinks. Fucked inside-out.

 “Do you know why they call it sounding?” Zach asks.

Chris feels a caress across his taint. He shakes his head.

 “It’s about finding your foundation. Like dropping lead-weighted lines into a body of water to calculate its depth.”

Chris pulls himself together enough to sass back, “You—you think you’ve calculated mine?”

 “Oh, no,” comes the quiet reply. “Nowhere near. I’m going to take this out now.”

 “But why?” He’s whining. He’s definitely whining.

 “Because you can take something bigger.”

It pulls out of him in a slow, measured ascent, and Chris curls his toes. He’s definitely hard now. “Is that going to be a problem?” he asks anxiously.

Zach knows immediately what he means. “I’d prefer it if you could show some discipline, yes.”

Chris gives a small laugh, but squirms. His face feels hot. “I mean, it feels weird, but good. So I don’t know if…”

 “Then we’ll stop until you regain your self-control.” Zach stands up, retreats somewhere. Chris hears latex peeling, and the scratch of the pen on paper again.

He gnaws on his bottom lip. “Maybe. Maybe it would help if I…”

The scratching stops. “Yes?”

 “Maybe it would help if I take off the blindfold. Watch.”

There’s a silent moment, and then Zach writes something that he underlines twice, forcefully. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s try that.”

Chris lies still. “Do you wanna...”

 “Do I wanna what?”

 “Take it off for me?”

He’s not sure how it happened, how he slipped into this docile state where he doesn’t want to do anything that might displease Zach, make him use that disapproving tone again. But here he is.

 “Would you like me to do it for you?” Zach asks at last.

 “You said,” Chris says. “You said. At the start. If I wanted to get rid of the blindfold, to let you know.”

More scratching. “I did,” Zach says. “Although that still doesn’t answer my question.”

 “Yes, please. I’d like you to do it for me.”

Chris hears him put something down—the pen and pad, it must be—and then there are gentle fingers coaxing his head forward, unbinding his eyes. He has to blink and readjust to the light in the room. Zach is bare-chested, but he still has his pants on. He’s so built right now. Chris needs to thank whoever keeps sending Zach those action-type scripts.

He’s kept his glasses on, too, and as Chris watches, he pulls on another set of gloves. The man is so _clinical_ about all of this. The whole effect is either serial killer chic or hot doctor. On the whole, Chris would prefer the latter, given the current situation. He catches sight of the sounds case, sitting on a table that Zach has drawn up to the foot of the bed. If he raises his head a little he can see them gleaming, reflecting the overhead light.

 “Maybe we should turn the lights down,” he says. “Just a little.”

 “I can put the blindfold back on you, if you prefer. But I need to see what I’m doing,” Zach points out.

 _And my reactions_ , Chris thinks, _in close-up Technicolor_. But if Zach wants to ‘science’ so bad, Chris can match him. “My tumescence seems to have diminished,” he says, and grins.

 “Yes. We can continue.”

Chris watches him take up the syringe, and closes his eyes. Zach lets him stay that way as he takes up Chris’s cock again and introduces another squeeze of lube into the tip of it.

 “It was your idea to watch,” he says evenly.

Chris opens his eyes and looks at Zach, at the sound in his hand. It’s hovering over his dick and it looks much bigger than Chris was expecting. His eyes go wide. “That’s not—that’s not the next one, is it?”

 “It is. They’re double-sided, you see. This one is seven millimeters on one end, and eight on the other.”

 “What was the last one?” Chris squawks.

 “Five and six. I used the five on you.”

Chris gives a weak laugh. “Six comes after five, buddy. Right?”

 “We’ll try seven. You can take it,” Zach says confidently, and grasps Chris’s dick. “Trust me. We’ll stop if it’s too much. But I don’t think it’ll be too much.”

Chris holds his breath and stares at the rod. His instinct is to pull away, but he doesn’t. He won’t. He’s curious whether it’ll go in like the last one or whether it’ll be more of a struggle. And there’s no issue with his dick; he’s like jello in Zach’s hand.

He can’t help it: he screws up his eyes again when Zach brings the tip of the sound to his slit. He can feel it insinuating into him, colder than any fingertip, and grabs at the bedcovers again.

 “See?” Zach says, sounding breathless. “See, you can take it.”

Chris opens his eyes despite himself and peeks. “Holy fucking shit.” It’s going in even easier than the first, flowing into him like his cock was made for this, for taking whatever Zach might feel like giving him. He props himself up on his elbows for a better view. “This is some freaky shit, man,” Chris says.

Zach doesn’t reply. He’s fixated on it, his gaze unwaveringly on the point where Chris’s cock is swallowing up the rod, and his lips parted in a small, amazed smile. It goes nicely with his whole mad scientist act, Chris has to admit. And it _is_ just an act.

He’s sure. Totally sure.

A minute later, the sound reaches the same depth as the last one. “See? I knew you could take it,” Zach says triumphantly.

 “Yeah, yeah,” Chris mutters. “Nothing worse than an ‘I told you so’ teller.”

Zach keeps hold of the exposed end of the rod, and starts to trace a line down the underside of Chris’s dick. “I can feel it in you,” he says, and locks eyes with Chris. “How does it feel, having your cock stuffed like this?”

 “Oh, God,” Chris says, and lowers himself to the bed again. He’s getting hard again, he can feel it, and the sound is shifting inside him. He’s adjusting around it. “Good, Zach. Okay? It feels good. What else do you want me to— _fu-uuck_.”

Zach has started pulling back up, and is stroking Chris’s cock around it, encouraging it, and smirking in a totally non-scientific manner. “I’ll need you to be more specific, please.”

 “For your notes?” Chris grits out, as Zach lets the rod begin descending again.

 “For my notes.”

 “It feels—like— _gahhhh_ —”

 “Use your words, Christopher.”

 _Fuck you_ , Chris wants to say. Instead, he says, “It feels like I’m coming. The wrong way.” He’s so hard now. A thought strikes him as Zach stops the sound again, halfway down. Maybe _more_ than halfway down. “Can I even shoot with this in?”

 “You can, physically. But you're blocked up, baby, so you'd have a retrograde ejaculation. And retrograde ejaculations,” Zach says, kneading behind Chris’s balls like he’s settling a frightened animal, “are not recommended. They flood back into the—”

 “No, no,” Chris babbles. “I’m pretty sure I don’t need to hear that. I trust you. No coming. Got it.”

 “There are hollow sounds, you know. For future reference. But for now, if you lose control and you need to come, tell me.”

 “Noted. God. I feel so _full_. And like…” He doesn’t want to say.

Zach runs a hand down his shaft, and presses into his stomach. Chris grunts and jerks. “Like you need the bathroom?” Zach asks, and gives a supercilious smile at Chris’s glare. “That’s to be expected. Some of the longer sounds are even better at stimulating those particular nerves. I’d like to try those on you sometime. They can even—well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Let’s just see how we go with these for the time being. Lie back down. Let me play.”

More welcome words Chris has never heard. He sinks back into the soft duvet and watches Zach through half-open eyes, settled on his knees between Chris’s thighs. This time, Zach lets the rod sink deeper and deeper into him until Chris is sure it must be bottoming out.

 “You take it so well,” Zach sighs. “And I bet you could take much more than this, even.”

No way, Chris thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He just luxuriates in the sensation, the sharp pleasure that courses through him every time Zach changes the direction of the sound, up or down, and the feel of Zach’s hand on his cock. Zach takes his time teasing, prodding, encouraging, until Chris starts feeling like a climbing vine cultivated by an expert. He’s full and hard around the rod. His dick is aching, ready for release, but the feeling of having it stuffed filled like this, crammed full and tantalized inside and out, is almost as good as an orgasm. Maybe…maybe better. Watching Zach’s face as he does it, his frown of concentration and his resolute, intent gaze, is the icing on the cake. What he’s getting out of it, Chris isn’t certain, but Zach sure is paying attention.

After a while, Zach changes the angle of his cock, laying it down flat against Chris’s belly. Instinctively, Chris reaches for it.

 “No.”

It’s a gentle remonstration, but Chris snatches his hand away, remembering the stinging pain of having his knuckles rapped before. He chuckles. “It’s _my_ dick, you know. You’re just lucky I let you play with it.”

 “Oh, am I? Just keep your hands off it, Pine. For now.” Again, Zach sounds cordial, even amused, but there’s something steely underneath. He strips off the gloves again, and stands, using firm hands on Chris’s thighs to help him rise. Chris puts his hands behind his head and watches the show as Zach unbuttons and pulls and gets all-the-way naked. He even takes off his glasses carefully and sets them next to the case of sounds.

Zach’s cock is full and thick; not rock-solid like Chris’s is, impaled on a metal rod, but Zach’s is on the way and it looks delicious. Chris wouldn’t mind a sixty-nine, if Zach were so inclined.

 “You gonna let me suck that?” Chris asks.

Zach smiles.

 _Oh, shit,_ Chris thinks.

 “I think not. For now, anyway. Now move back up the bed. I’ll hold this in place for you—” Zach rings Chris’s dick with his thumb and forefinger, just under where the tip of the sound sits, and squeezes tight. “—so it doesn’t get swallowed up by that hungry cock of yours.”

Chris gives a nervous laugh and flushes. It’s disconcerting, the way Zach is going back and forth between detachment and dirty talk. Chris manages to shuffle his way back up the bed as instructed, feeling the sound shift ever so gently within him as he does. He might describe the sensation as ticklish, if it wasn’t making him so goddamn hard. He lies back in relief with his head on the pillows, his legs sprawled. With a grin, he pinches at one of his nipples.

 “You’re hard all over,” Zach notes.

 “You too.” Chris looks from Zach’s cock up to his face. He bites down on his lower lip and then flicks his tongue out to wet it. “Come on, give me a taste.”

Zach is on him in an instant, close up and looming over him, propped up on one arm. “Observation time has not yet finished,” he murmurs. He’s warm and he smells good: woody with a sharp, alkaline undertone of sex. Chris lifts his head to kiss him and Zach allows it. With his lips still on Chris’s, he sets to playing with the sound again.

 “No gloves,” Chris gasps.

 “Gloves are off,” Zach agrees.

 “But you said—”

 “I’m only touching the top of it. Not going to touch the other part. The part sliding its way deep inside you like that—opening you up—you feel that? You’re taking it so perfectly, opening up wide around it. Nice big bar of metal deep inside your dick, baby, it’s so _wrong_. Can’t believe you let me.”

Chris half-laughs, half-sobs. He clenches his pelvic floor muscles as the sound provokes a particular response. “Me either.” Christ, is he going to wet himself or come? He’s not sure. Knowing Zach, he’d be just as delighted with either result.

“You’d do anything if it felt good, wouldn’t you?” Zach is right at his ear, whispering encouragement, his breath hot and a tremor underlying the words. Chris snakes a hand to Zach's cock and gives it an experimental squeeze, and a tug. It’s hard. Very hard. And very wet at the tip.

“Yeah,” Chris breathes. “Anything that gets you soaking like this, I’d do it.” He gives two more tugs.

“Would you?” Zach asks, and his voice is definitely unsteady now. “Would you let me do this again?”

“I’d _encourage_ it,” Chris tells him. “For science.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I can tell you’re not done. You’ve barely dipped below the surface.”

“Jack my dick.”

Chris complies, and Zach rewards him by letting the sound sink deeper. He sucks at Chris’s neck, ends with a not-so-gentle nip. Chris winces. He’ll have a mark there later; he’ll be able to look at it and remember this. “Fuck, oh fuck,” he says stupidly. “Zach—”

“I want to see how much you can take,” Zach says. He’s crouching over Chris like a jungle cat now, knees planted on either side. His breath is ragged, harsh in Chris’s ear. “I want to _watch_ you taking it, Pine. Watch your face with every inch I get inside you, watch you struggle with it. I’m gonna get so deep inside your cock it’ll make you beg me to let you shoot—”

“I’m _gonna_ —”

The sound retreats from his dick, not fast, but not slow either, and it feels like it’s drawing Chris’s orgasm out of him, sucking it up about of his balls and spraying out of him like a fountain. He’s not proud of the profoundly vulgar words that come tumbling out of his mouth, but Zach doesn’t seem to mind. Not at all.

Zach, in fact, smirks into Chris’s face. In retaliation, Chris gives three firm pulls at his cock. Zach goes rigid all over, thrusting one last time into Chris’s fist. He lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, and Chris feels a second cascade of come flowing over him, pooling in the dip of his obliques.

“Oh, God,” Chris says, and adds, “Oh, science, too.”

Zach collapses next to him, shaking with silent laughter. It takes a while before either of them are really up to moving. “No, you stay there,” Zach says, although he sounds as tired as Chris feels. “I should clean up the mess. I made it, after all.”

“I helped,” Chris protests.

Zach pats his shoulder like he’s appeasing an indignant child. “Yes, you did. You helped a lot.”

Normally, Chris would tell him to go fuck himself, but he just grins. He watched Zach pad around, cleaning, tidying, packing. He fetches a warm, wet cloth to wipe down Chris’s splattered stomach.

He presses in harder than he really needs to around Chris’s lower stomach, and Chris squirms under his hand. “Easy there,” he says. “I gotta pee.”

“Do you?” Zach asks, his eyes burning. Chris grins. They’ve been down this route before.

Chris swings his legs off the bed, stands, and comes back around to take Zach by the hand. “You and your plots, Quinto,” he says. “Come on, then.”

Zach follows him willingly into the bathroom, and they stop together in front of the toilet. Chris lifts the seat, and Zach hugs him from behind when he straightens up again. He reaches behind to cup the back of Zach’s head, drawing him closer, and turning his face to Zach’s so they can press their mouths together. With his other hand, he grabs at Zach’s ass, pulling him right in until he can feel Zach’s dick nestled against his crack. “Aim better this time,” he says against Zach’s tongue.

“Quit distracting me and I will.”

Zach pulls away from the kiss and gives him a smile. He smooths his hands down Chris’s flanks and makes his way slowly, steadily, to his dick. “Might burn a little,” he says. “Right after sounding.”

Chris swallows as Zach picks his cock up, straightening it and aiming it. “Good to know,” he says. They’ve done this before. Zach likes it. Chris likes that Zach likes it.

“Come on, then,” Zach says against his shoulder. “You can’t possibly be embarrassed about it. I just had a steel rod all the way down you.”

Chris closes his eyes, because he _is_ embarrassed about it. Of course he is. He’s had a lifetime of conditioning that tells him it’s impolite to stare right at another dude’s dick when he’s pissing, and here Zach is, watching right over his shoulder and holding it for him besides.

“I could sing about waterfalls for you,” Zach suggests, and Chris snorts.

“Don’t even try, you fucker. Oh—”

Zach has stuck his tongue into Chris’s ear, a wet, uncomfortable, erotic sensation and sound that makes him lose control of his muscles, just for a moment, and he starts pissing, clenches to keep it going. He screws his eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling, on the burn as it starts—Zach was right about that—but the pain subsides quickly and he feels like the force of it is stronger than normal.

“Good boy,” Zach tells him as it finally tapers off. “And see what a careful urethral sounding will do for your stream?”

“Baby, I love you, but please don’t say that again. Ever.” Chris chuckles, though. Zach is obsessed with the strangest things about him. The _base_ things, the things that he usually tried to keep out of his ex-girlfriends’ minds. Perfect Ken Doll Chris Pine, after all, does not need to use the bathroom.

Zach peels away from him, sweat making them both a little sticky, and washes his hands. “Perfect aim that time,” he says proudly, and Chris can’t help it: he laughs, long and loud. “You could say thank you,” Zach points out, and it sets him off again.

“Thank you for helping me pee, Zachary,” he says at last. “And for being so weird.”

Zach’s mouth twists, and Chris gets it, he does, but it’s not like he meant it in a bad way. He pulls Zach to him and kisses away the uncertainty. “I like you weird,” he says afterwards. “Okay? Who else is going to play with my dick so nicely?”

Zach smiles. “True. I am a very polite guest on a playdate.”

“You clean up your toys and everything,” Chris agrees, and then washes his hands too.

“So that’s a yes to sounding,” Zach says, once they’re snuggled up in bed.

“That’s a _definite_ yes.”

“And you’d like to try it again?” Zach looks so hopeful that Chris can’t help kissing his nose.

“Sure, baby. What’s not to love?”

“Because I’ve got some ideas…”

“Such as?”

Zach shakes his head a little awkwardly, because they’re facing each other on their pillows. “No. Wait and see.”

“Subject must be unaware, or experiment will fail?”

“Something like that.” He’s got that troubled look in his eye again, the one Chris hates seeing. He’s still not entirely sure what causes it.

“What’s up?” he asks gently.

Zach reaches over him to turn out the lamp. “I’m tired, is all,” he says into the dark.

“Then let’s sleep.” Chris doesn’t see the point in pushing him, not tonight. This issue Zach has, whatever it might be, is still bubbling away at a quiet simmer and it’s not quite ready to be served up yet. Chris can wait for now. “Dream of all the nasty things you want to do to me,” he says, flopping over into his sleeping position.

“Always,” Zach yawns, and snuggles up closer.

 

_***_

 

“These look dangerous,” Chris says, alarmed, and immediately regrets it. Zach has been nervous about his reaction all day, despite Chris’s assurances that he’s into it.

He _is_ into it. _Totally_ into it. Masturbation seems so tame these days, despite whatever over-the-top fantasies he indulges in, now that he’s felt something like that. Chris even snuck a look at Zach’s notes just to live the moment again. They’ve never talked about whether Zach’s notes are private, but Chris has always treated them as such, despite the fact that their subject is one Christopher Whitelaw Pine. He figures Zach would probably show him if he asked, but he’s never liked to. So he just took a sneak-peek one day when Zach was showering. He couldn’t read them, anyway; Zach’s handwriting is either getting worse, or he employs a special shorthand that no one could possibly read.

So yeah, he’s into it. It’s just…he got broken in, so to speak, on the Hegar sounds: frightening in their exponential sizing, yes, but sturdy in build and appealing in their shiny plumpness. These new sounds Zach’s bought are not at all the same. They’re long and very thin, apart from the bulbous tip, shaped like—

 “Rosebud sounds,” Zach says, “are what they’re often called. Because the tip is shaped like a—”

“Rosebud. I get it. I get it so much I’d make an elaborate joke about Citizen Kane if I wasn’t so…”

 “So…?” Zach sucks on his bottom lip. It’s a habit Chris thinks Zach might have picked up from him.

 “They’re different,” Chris replies, and manages not to pout. He sounds only mildly belligerent, which is good.

 “Yes,” Zach says.

 “I just got used to the other ones. You know?”

 “We’ve only done it once,” Zach says patiently. “You can’t possibly have had time to get used to anything yet. Unless,” he adds, and ghosts a hand over the back of Chris’s neck, “you’ve been stuffing yourself when I’m not around. Have you?”

Chris grins. “Nuh-uh. No way. I need someone around to call 911 if something goes wrong.”

 “Mm.” Zach brushes his lips across the nape of Chris’s neck and pulls him close. “You’re so hyperbolic.”

Chris laughs.

 “We don’t have to try them,” Zach says. “But I think you’ll enjoy them if we do.” He adds carefully, “But it’s totally up to you. It’s your dick.”

 “Damn straight,” Chris mutters, but the truth is, his dick has a new master these days. And his dick is twitching at the idea of those extended metal rods sliding into it.

Zach just waits.

“Alright,” Chris says. “For science.”

 “Just for science?” Zach asks, and he seems amused, but Chris doesn’t want him to feel like he’s just humoring Zach’s kinks.

 “For science. For you. But most of all for me. I like living on the edge.”

 “Oh, yeah. You’re a regular thrill seeker,” Zach tells him, and the irony drips from every word. Chris isn’t quite sure if Zach’s square with how everything’s gone down, but he shrugs it off. He’s about to get his cock plowed, after all.

 “Guess I should jump in the shower?” he asks.

Zach snorts. “We’re not doing this _now_. I just wanted to show you.”

But here they are in the bedroom, with a rare free afternoon. Gift horses, Chris thinks. “No time like the present.”

 “Think you’ll wimp out otherwise?”

Chris turns in Zach’s arms to give him the full benefit of his smile. “No. I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

 “A lot?”

 “A whole lot.” He grabs Zach’s hips and pulls them close, grinding up against him. “See?”

Zach swallows. “I see. Only, the thing is, I…I wanted to put some baseline observations in order before we tried these, and—”

Chris lets out the pout this time. “Aw, come on. That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

 “It was going to involve a lot of sucking and groping.”

 “I mean, that sounds _better_ , sure, but is that all it’s about for you? Experimenting?”

Zach drops his arms and steps back. “Of course not,” he says stiffly.

Maybe this is it, Chris thinks. Maybe today, the day he bought me a brand new set of sounds, will be the day this whole thing blows up in our faces. Maybe my last memory of our sex life will be the night we _didn’t_ try the rosebud sounds.

“Zach,” he says, and lays a hand on his arm. “Hey, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zach seems to have shaken it off. He smiles, and clasps Chris’s hand. “Sure,” he says. “Just had a long day.”

“Of course. We can leave it—”

“No. I can’t think of anything more relaxing than watching you get off on some deviant act. Let’s do it. Go shower.” He turns Chris in the direction of the shower and kisses the back of his neck. “Use that antiseptic soap again.”

Chris is assiduous with the antiseptic soap, so much so that he’s hard and wagging around like a happy dog tail when he exits the shower. Zach makes a beeline for his cock when Chris comes back into the room, and it’s not long before Chris is arching against Zach’s hand.

“Can’t be hard,” he pants against Zach’s kisses all over his face and neck. “Ow! Jesus. You need a better razor. You’re giving me stubble rash.”

 “Italian,” Zach mutters, like it’s the answer to all of life’s questions. “And I figured we’d better get you off before we do this.”

 “Uh, you what? No? That’s the wrong way around? We do this, _then_ I get off.”

 “You get too excited,” Zach tells him, and gives him a nip just below his ear. “Like a puppy.” He fingers Chris’s balls.

Chris groans in frustration. “Then get your paws off me and my dick’ll cool down.”

Zach pauses. “I really think it would be better if—”

Chris resurrects the pout. “I’ll be way too sensitive if we do it that way.”

The pout rarely fails, and it doesn’t fail this time. “Fine,” Zach sighs. “Go lie on the bed and calm your cock down.”

Chris bounds over and settles down with his hands behind his head. He’s pretty sure the immediate, up front view of Zach arranging metal rods, adjusting his glasses, and folding over to a new page in his notebook will kill his erection. Only, it doesn’t. If anything, the situation gets worse. Eventually he has to close his eyes and remember how self-conscious the _Into Darkness_ wetsuit made him feel on-set.

“Better,” Zach says, and puts two fingers under Chris’s cock, testing its weight thoughtfully.

Chris’s eyes fly open. “Don’t _touch_ it,” he says. “Or it’ll bounce back.”

 “I _have_ to touch it. I’m not just going to throw the sound at you like a dart and hope for the best.”

 “Ha ha.” But Zach is kneeling over him now, undressed down to his briefs, and with the skinny metal rod in his gloved hands. The reality of it helps Chris stay soft and pliable, just like Zach needs him. The sounds are to hand, on the bedside table. It feels more intimate like this, with Zach on top of him, despite the latex gloves and the tube of Surgilube lying next to the case of sounds.

 “You ready?”

There seemed to be a lot more foreplay last time, but Chris, like Zach, is happy to move things along. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Chris props himself up on his elbows and keeps his eyes open this time—suspicious, maybe. The sound is so different to the last. This is a rapier compared to a broadsword; a lot skinnier, but potentially just as deadly. Zach gets him prepped just like last time with the syringe of lube, and it makes Chris flush to watch it, but watch he does. He won’t chicken out this time. He has to glance away when Zach picks up the sound, but only because he’s so fascinated by the look on Zach’s face. Intense, sure, but more than that. Determined?

Zach flicks his eyes up as the bulb of the sound touches the tip of Chris’s dick, and Chris catches his breath. They both look back down, watching the rosebud push in, and Chris lets out a long " _Ohhh_." He imagines he can feel every curve of the rosebud, the cold steel sinking into his slit and his flesh closing up behind it, sucking down the bulb like his cock is hungry for it. Just like Zach told him last time.

A fresh wave of crimson washes over Chris’s face and shoulders, but he’s not sure this time if it’s from embarrassment or pleasure. He throws his head back and gives a short, breathless laugh.

“Alright?” Zach murmurs.

 “Yeah,” Chris chuckles. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Different?”

“Yup.” Chris kind of wishes Zach would quit with the questions, but on the other hand, it’s nice that he’s taking such an interest. Caring. “You were right.”

The sound is going deep, dropping in just as smoothly as the last ones did, with Zach’s hands guiding it. “I was _right_ about something?” Zach asks, amusement twitching at his lips. “Say it ain’t so.”

“Fucker,” Chris breathes, and can’t stop his grunt of pleasure. “Yeah,” he says when he’s recovered. “Yeah, you were right about it feeling different. Different sort of—” He gasps.

“Just as good, though. Right?” Zach pauses the rod’s descent and just about bats his eyelashes at Chris. He rings Chris’s cock with thumb and forefinger, close to the base. “See here? That’s where it is inside you. Deep down, baby.”

Chris makes a strangled noise.

“Let’s try pulling back up,” Zach purrs, and does it: he eases the sound back up, and it feels—it feels—

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Chris squeaks. The Hegar sounds felt amazing coming out, just like he told Zach at the time, like he was coming in reverse. The rosebud, with the way it makes his dick open and close around the bulb, feels like it’s sucking him from the inside, pumping him like an oil well. And he isn’t even fully hard yet.

He’s getting there fast, though.

“Let’s leave religion out of it,” Zach says with a wicked smirk, and lets the sound begin descending again. “You like that, baby? That greedy cock of yours, swallowing up whatever I want to give it?”

Yeah. Chris is hard now. He swallows.

“Go deeper this time,” he murmurs, and looks up at Zach’s face. Zach is flushed across his cheeks with arousal, his lips wet where he’s been licking at them. “Really give it to me.”

Zach takes it like a challenge, pride and determination flashing in his eyes. “Oh, I’ll give it to you,” he says. “Just be sure you can _take_ it, Pine.”

Chris’s neck is getting kind of sore at this propped-up angle, so he lowers himself carefully to the bed, and flings one arm out beside him, the other across his forehead. “I’ll take it,” he breathes, and concentrates on the feel of it. The metal has warmed up by now, and it’s more difficult to differentiate where the rod is inside him. He can feel the tip, of course, teasing and nudging deep down into the base of his dick. It’s so far into him now, or feels like it, anyway.

Zach’s fingers track down Chris’s ballsack and prod behind, massaging into his taint. “Baby, you weren’t kidding about taking it. I’m so proud of you.”

Chris’s eyes fly open to see the sound buried up to the handle, his cock fully flourished around it. It’s so far in him he has to blink a few times. Has he really taken it all? Christ. He really is hungry for it.

He must’ve said it aloud, because: “I told you you were,” Zach says, and Chris bites his lower lip.

“How—how far—” He can’t quite say the words.

Zach presses into his perineum. “Quite far,” he says with quiet satisfaction. “Can’t you feel it?”

“I can, but—not like when it first goes in, you know? When it’s kinda cold.”

Zach starts to play with the sound, pulling it up and letting it drop in increments, getting bolder as it smoothly glides in and out of Chris’s cock. “Do you like that sensation?” he asks. “The cold?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good to know. Here—you try.” Zach places Chris’s dick back on his stomach so the handle of the sound points towards him.

“What?”

“Try it.”

Chris can feel his cheeks stain cherry red. “No, it’s okay. You do it.”

Zach slinks up the bed until he’s lying beside Chris, leaning on a bent elbow, head in hand. “New vista,” he says. “I like it. Try it.”

“I can’t,” Chris says, and gives his most imploring puppydog eyes.

“Embarrassed?”

Damn him, Chris thinks, but he nods.

“Hold your cock for me. Keep it steady.” Chris can do that, no problems. Zach draws on the sound again, up, up, up, until the rosebud is stimulating Chris’s tip, and it’s the sweetest sensation Chris has felt in a long time. Just this side of painful, like an itch being scratched a little too forcefully. “And in again,” Zach says in his ear, and the bud travels down through his cock again. Chris groans. “See? Easy. Now you try,” Zach says.

“Why do you want me to do it?”

“I like to watch.” It’s so Zach, that answer. He loves watching Chris, any time, any place. Watches him during interviews, his steady dark eyes on Chris’s mouth, like he’s counting the syllables of the words. Watches Chris jerking off in the shower, his eyes glittering at the way Chris likes to probe his own asshole sometimes. Even watches Chris pissing, encouraging him to squirt it all out, every last drop.

Chris shudders. “Don’t I need gloves?”

“No, baby, it’ll be fine. Just take it right at the top in your fingertips, yes, like that—now pull—gentle—yes, like that.” Zach settles in to watch, his own latex-wrapped fingers petting Chris’s sack like it’s a timid kitten. “You like that, don’t you? Diddling yourself.”

Chris doesn’t know what it is about that word, but his balls draw up and his butthole throbs when he hears it. “Yeah,” he manages to gasp. He gives another tug at the sound in his dick, and he can feel it now, exactly where it is, the bud of it pushing through him. His other hand tightens around his shaft. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure, baby. Anything.”

“Finger me?”

Zach makes a growling noise that Chris has never heard him make before, and he feels a finger press against his asshole. “Glutton,” Zach murmurs in Chris’s ear, just before he pushes in with the tip of his finger. Chris wriggles, panting. It’s dry, and rubbery too, but it’s all he needs right now, a thick nub stretching his ring, stimulating him and making him aware of how _wrong_ this all is. He lets the sound slip deep into his dick again.

“That’s it, take it right down,” Zach says.

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” Chris chokes, and he’s overtaken by a sense of urgency. He can’t help jacking himself with his other hand, and the joint sensations finish him. He’s almost too late pulling out the sound; he can feel his come trying to force its way through his cock like water through a kinked hose. The rosebud pops out of him and he splatters everywhere.

Zach gives a delighted chuckle. “Gorgeous.”

Chris feels for Zach’s crotch; he’s like iron underneath his cotton briefs, and there’s a liberal wet patch soaking through the material. “Shoot on me,” he pants. “Come on. Get me drenched.”

Zach doesn’t need telling twice. He’s got his dick out in seconds, and wraps Chris’s hand around it. “You want my load so much, _you_ do it,” and the two of them end up working him over, their fingers sticky and hot and it’s awkward as hell because of the angle, but Chris crows in triumph when he feels a hot flood across his belly.

Zach is gasping for air, speechless and with a look of mild surprise written across his face. He slumps down on the bed, collapsing like unsteady bricks on top of Chris.

“Oof,” Chris says. “You’re heavy.”

“I'll need to boil that sound,” Zach huffs. “We both shot all over it.”

“Sexy.” Chris realizes something. “Hey, we didn’t even get to try the next size up!”

“Plenty of time,” Zach mumbles into Chris’s nipple. Chris’s dick gives one heroic twitch, and then slumps. Zach raises his head and looks at him. “You need to go pee.”

“You’re monitoring my bladder now, too?” Chris gives a grin, but Zach doesn’t grin back, so he drops it. “Uh, well, I do need to, actually. Nicely caught.”

“UTIs,” Zach says briefly.

“Even sexier. You wanna help?”

Zach rolls off the bed and pulls on his underwear. “I should…” He flaps a hand around, and then says, “Got stuff to do.”

Jesus. Is this how it’s going to be from now on until the inevitable end, Chris putting his foot in his mouth somehow and not even knowing what it is he’s said? He stands as well, making a face at the slow slide of congealing jizz down his torso.

 “You messed me up,” he says, and Zach stops. Stares. “You should clean up your messes, Zachary. And I really could use your help.” It seems to be working. Zach is looking less like he’s seen a shotgun waved at him and more like he might be inclined to ravage Chris’s body some more. “Please?” Chris adds. “Pretty please with sugar on top?”

 “You want me to help?” Zach asks. “Really?”

 “Absolutely. I want your hands on my cock some more.” Chris turns on the grin again, and this time Zach smiles back, just a little, a tiny curve of the corner of his mouth. “Come on.”

This time, after Chris thinks he’s fully emptied himself into the toilet, Zach presses two sure fingers into his taint and says, “Keep going. Clench.”

 “Neat trick,” Chris says, after he’s managed to spurt out a little more. He’s getting hard again, and it’s been a long time since he’s had a dick in his ass. “It’s been a long time since I had a dick in my ass.”

 “Is that a hint?”

 “No, it’s a request.”

Shower fucking is no less awesome than Chris remembers. It’s only afterwards, when he wanders back into the bedroom to get dressed again, that he’s reminded again of the fragility of their relationship. Zach has tidied everything away and dressed, but he’s making notes again, and Chris feels a sudden, irrational urge to burn the damn notebook.

 “More science?” he says coldly, and Zach looks up, taken aback by his tone.

 “Just, you know. Recording my observations.”

 “Think you’ll win first prize at the science fair?” Chris says, and it comes out much more spitefully than he thought it would.

Zach blinks, and then his face goes stony. “I actually _do_ have stuff to do,” he says, and shuts the notebook away in the bedside table. Chris ignores him and goes to conduct a search-and-rescue for fresh underwear in the dresser drawer they’re sharing. It’s way too full. They need more space, but Chris doesn’t want to suggest he needs another drawer of his own. It’s Zach’s bedroom. They’re not living together, and Chris doesn’t want Zach to feel like he's angling towards that.

The other solution is that Chris collects up all the shit he’s left here at Zach’s and takes it home. Some days it seems like that’s the most likely outcome.

 “You know,” Zach says, pausing at the doorway.

Chris glances over his shoulder. “What?”

They stare at each other for a too-long moment and then Zach shrugs. “Forget it. Remember to lock up when you leave.” He disappears out of the doorway.

Chris slams the drawer shut with much more force than necessary.

 

*******

 

The problem is, they have _problems_. Problems that they bury. They never talk about them. Chris, if he’s honest, doesn’t _want_ to talk about them. The sex is great; better than great. The sex was what got them together in the first place: those jet-lagged quickies during the tours, the hook-ups when they find themselves in the same cities. They’ve both been back in LA long enough for Chris to move a toothbrush into Zach’s bathroom mug, but they don’t have enough of a routine to warrant a _where’s this going_ chat.

For all Chris knows, Zach is still sucking off twinks on the nights they’re not together.

The thought makes him frown, and he rearranges himself on the sofa where he’s been busily not-watching the recorded Lakers game. He swore all his friends and acquaintances to silence on the outcome, and here he is, not even caring that they’re down in the fourth quarter. Fuck ’em, anyway. He fast forwards to watch them lose, then turns off the TV with a sigh.

Chris hasn’t spoken to Zach for three days, not since their last poorly-concluded sexual interlude. He picks up his phone, types and sends _Bored. What you up to?_ before he can chicken out, and then stares at the screen until it dims, goes black.

It’s ten minutes before Zach replies: _come over_

Chris almost forgets his house keys, he’s so eager. That enthusiasm holds him in good stead when Zach opens the front door looking wary. “Hey,” Chris says, and barges on through to get his doggy kisses. “You hungry? I’m starved.”

 “You’re always hungry,” Zach says, and with that, everything falls back into place.

Zach feeds him grilled cheese and then they watch a Banksy documentary for a while, until Chris is pressed up against Zach and distracting him with cheese-greased kisses.

 “Forget Banksy,” Chris says at last.

 “Banksy is an important cultural—”

 “Let’s go play with my dick.”

Zach turns off the TV immediately, and Chris grins. “Put the dogs in their crates,” Zach says, “and I’ll get set up.”

 “Ooh,” Chris says. “Promising.” Skunk and Noah are happy enough to enter their crates in the living room, even though Chris feels a little bad for them getting locked up. Zach has repeatedly told him that they like it, that it makes them feel safe and secure, and they do seem happy. It’s not all night, anyway. Zach will take them out to do their business later, and then let them sleep in the bedroom with him. On the floor.

His dick twitches. “What’s that about?” he murmurs, looking down.

Skunk sticks a hopeful nose through one of the wire squares of the crate. Chris sneaks him and Noah each an extra treat before he leaves them to snooze, and trots obediently through to the bedroom.

It’s weird the way his cock gets thick when he sees the sounds. Or at least, it’s a stark contrast to the first time they tried them. Zach is already stripped to his briefs and gloved. Chris comes close and wraps his arms around Zach from behind, looking past his shoulder. “New sounds? Again?”

 “Van Burens.”

Chris can see why Zach didn’t get these till now. They’re scary fuckers, long and thick like the Hegar sounds but with a curve at the end of them, like the letter J. Their handles each end in a round, ridged nut. The whole thing looks like a huge, misshapen bolt and the idea of driving it home inside him is challenging, to say the least. If Chris'd seen these the first time they’d tried it, no way. No way would he have let Zach anywhere near his slit with these things. Now, though, Chris can’t wait to get them inside him. Funny how things turn out.

 “How does the curve work?” He’s not worried, just fascinated.

 “Just have to change the angle when I get to the base. And these ones have a particular property I’m anxious to try out.”

 “You sound like Spock when you talk that way,” Chris says, and bites him gently on the shoulder, a dull closing of teeth with no sting behind it. He’s close enough to Zach’s throat to hear him swallow. “Maybe _you_ should try the sounds sometime.”

 “I prefer to watch you taking them.”

 “Still haven’t found my depths?” It’s supposed to be a joke. They freeze like Chris has dropped an accidental truth-bomb, until Zach blinks and looks down.

He picks up one of the medium-sized sounds. “Let’s start here. Yes?” The sciency-objective tone Zach likes to use in these scenarios is beginning to be a turn-on all of its own, Chris realizes, despite the fact he got so pissy last time about Zach’s notes.

 “I left the antibacterial soap in the shower for you,” Zach says.

 _That’s_ not a turn-on. That’s ten more minutes before Chris can have his cock stuffed, and he’s not good at waiting for treats. Never has been. “Aw, man, come on. Can’t I skip the shower this time?” Zach opens his mouth to reply, and Chris forestalls him. “And _don’t_ say ‘UTIs.’”

Zach gives a shrug. “Hell, it’s your urinary tract,” he says. “Up to you. I can just swab you if you want to take the chance, but I really think—”

 “Swabs sound great. Very sanitary. Let’s do that.”

Chris is actually _eager_ to get that scary-shaped metal bolt deep inside him, and he wastes no time getting in place on the bed. When Zach starts breaching Chris’s slit, however, things feel different. _Very_ different.

 “Whoa!”

Zach pauses, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“That’s—that’s mighty chilly,” Chris squeaks.

 “Yes,” Zach replies.

 “How come it’s so _cold_?”

“Fridge,” Zach says briefly, and Chris’s mouth falls open.

 “Holy shit. You cunning bastard.”

 “You want to stop?”

 “Of course not!”

They’re both used to the insertion routine now, and it doesn’t take long before Zach is stroking the sound in and out of Chris’s cock, and Chris is panting and trying not to fuck up into the feeling of it.

 “Still good?” Zach asks. He’s abandoned his kneeling-over position already, and is tight-up against Chris’s side, watching the sound as he pumps it in and out. He plants open-mouthed kisses down the side of Chris’s jaw in between fucking him with the sound.

Chris groans. “ _So_ good.” It’s weird, the way the J-shape has no trouble sliding in and out of his cock, even when it’s hard, like he is now.

 “I want you to take it deep, as deep as you can, baby. You might need to stretch your muscles for me, or help me guide it. Okay?”

Chris just nods. He’d do anything Zach told him to do right now, as long as these feelings keep coiling tighter in him, making his balls pulse and his asshole twinge. This plundering of his cock—because that’s how he’s come to think of it—is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. He’s thought about it, just a little, because he doesn’t really like thinking too deeply about some of the kinky things they do together. But he’s thought about this, about why he likes having Zach stuff his cock like this.

It’s not just physical pleasure he gets from it. He realized the other day that no one else has fucked him like this. No one. It’s like he had this virgin fragment of himself that even he never knew about, and he got to share it with Zach. Chris has never cared much about the idea of virginity or non-virginity. It’s never come up much in his mind. But something about the idea that he has this part of his body that’s never been touched before, and that _Zach_ is the one touching it—it makes him squirm whenever he thinks about it. In a _good_ way, definitely a good way. He’s squirming right now, in fact.

 “You okay?” Zach asks, his lips brushing Chris’s ear. “You’re squirming.”

“Deeper,” is the only thing Chris says.

 “Yeah,” Zach says, his voice dark with lust. “Yeah, let’s get this deeper into you.” Zach manipulates the sound and Chris lifts his hips slightly and it all slips into place as perfectly as a Tetris block.

Chris lets out a small, surrendering gasp. “That’s…”

 “Deep,” Zach says, and even on one word his voice has an obvious break in it. Chris smiles, reaches up ungracefully to touch his throat.

 “Got the tremors there?” he says. “Keep it steady.”

“Steady,” Zach parrots.

 “As she goes,” Chris adds, and a short, delirious giggle escapes him.

 “Quiet, you.” Zach leans in to nuzzle at his ear. “How’s this?” ‘This’ is an acute, radiating pleasure that ripples over Chris when Zach makes the sound move inside him.

“What. The hell. Was that?”

 “That, baby, was your magical G-spot.”

 “But— _ohhhhh_.” Zach is stimulating his prostate from the _other_ side, the side Chris never thinks about, never considers. The thought leaves him with his mouth hanging open.

Zach sounds only slightly smug when he says: “I _told_ you your body was fearfully and wonderfully made. Now, why don’t you jack yourself a little while I do this again?”

It’s the best idea Chris has ever heard. Zach is supremely gentle about it, but even the lightest pressure from the sound makes Chris moan. It’s not even just the way it feels; it’s the idea behind it, that Zach is deep inside him where no one else has ever been, in a place that even Chris has never thought about. The metal of the sound is retaining the cold, too, making him hyper-aware of exactly where it is in his body. If he wasn't stuffed full of metal, he'd be dripping.

Just when he thinks it can’t get any more intense, Zach says, “Brace yourself, baby.” Chris’s eyes fly open—when did he shut them?—only to see Zach laying the sound, and his dick, back down on Chris’s stomach. Chris thinks about spit-roasts, and then pushes the thought out of his mind. He concentrates on Zach, who is shifting up on to his knees and straddling him. Chris can’t resist reaching out to touch Zach’s cock, hot and solid in his underwear.

 “Gimme,” he says, reduced to childishness.

But Zach shakes his head. “Just wait. This might be too much for you.”

Chris makes a scoffing sound, and keeps his hand on Zach’s cotton-clad cock. He watches Zach reach for the head of the sound, watches him take the ridged nut at the end between his fingers, watches him give a small twist…

If Zach weren’t sitting on his thighs, Chris would be leaping off the bed. As it is, Zach looks a little too much like he’s on a human version of a bucking bronco ride, but he’s keeping Chris as immobilized as he can. And _something_ is buzzing right against Chris’s prostate, sending a billion volts of pleasure charging through him.

 “Hold still!” Zach says, half-laughing, and the sensation ceases as he twists the nut again.

 “What the _fuck_ ,” Chris demands, “was _that?_ ”

 “Is that a good or bad 'what the fuck?'”

 “An _excellent_ 'what the fuck.'”

Zach does laugh this time. “Okay. So, short version: I got vibrating sounds. Again?”

Chris wipes away the sweat beading on his upper lip and nods. “Again.” He’s ready for it this time, but it’s still just as intense. He doesn’t wriggle around this time. He lies there and takes it, sinks into the mattress like jelly, and grabs at Zach’s thighs to keep his hands from his dick. If he touches himself right now, he’s afraid he’ll come. It tickles him _just right_ , not too light or too intense to become irritating or painful. He just wishes…

 “Zach.”

 “Yeah?” Zach is staring intently at Chris’s cock, but he raises his eyes when Chris speaks.

 “I need more.”

 “You want me to turn it up?”

Chris shakes his head. He wonders if he looks as wanton and fuck-drunk as he feels. “Not that. I want you inside me. Rubbing me from both sides.”

Zach’s eyes flare, but he leans back slightly, and shakes his head. “I can’t do that, baby. Not a good idea to be fucking you while you’re impaled on metal.”

 “Come onnnn,” Chris wheedles, and he pats at Zach’s cock again. “I know you wanna.”

Zach shifts further down Chris’s thighs as though he’s trying to get away from his wandering hands. “Quit that,” he says with an indulgent smile. “Of course I wanna. Still not gonna. Anything goes wrong, you’re left with a torn—”

 “Don’t,” Chris breaks in. “Don’t say that. Please. Jesus. Just—okay, how about fingers, then? You won’t fuck me, but you could finger me. Can you play with me that way?”

Zach chews on his bottom lip. “It’s really hard to say no to you when you’re begging me to play with you. You know that?”

 “Oh, I know.” Chris gives him his most lascivious look, and Zach has the gall to roll his eyes.

 “Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll feel up your butthole, but no fucking. And I’m turning this thing off while we get into place.”

“Deal." Chris adds, "For now,” under his breath.

Zach shoots him a _look_ , but says nothing.

Chris isn’t stupid, and he can see Zach’s point. It’s a fair point, sure. Only…sometimes Chris gets carried away. Sometimes his sex drive seems to lead the way more than it should. And sometimes he just really, really loves the feeling of being full of Zach’s cock. The idea of Zach stuffing him front _and_ back…it’s so arousing his dick jumps at the thought. Fingers will do for now, but surely they can work something out, Chris thinks.

There are a complicated few moments where they try to rearrange their positions, but eventually Chris ends up with his legs spread, and Zach is lying next to him with one leg crooked over Chris’s in an appealingly dominant manner. Zach’s fingers feel behind Chris’s balls, and start massaging carefully into his taint and then stop.

 “Oh, God,” Zach whispers.

 “Mm?”

 “I can feel it in you. Turn it on. Turn it on, baby; you’ll have to do it. I’ve got my hands full.”

Chris has no objections at all. He fiddles with the ridged nut, testing it gingerly. He doesn’t want to turn it on too high, or Zach might have to scrape him off the ceiling. It starts out pretty low, thankfully, and it’s easy enough to find the perfect level of vibration. Zach’s fingers are indeed pressing against the buzzing tip of the sound, only on the outside. He pushes gently at it, and Chris moans as the sensation swells, dies.

 “Do that again,” he pleads, and Zach obliges. “Now inside. Fingers. Now.”

 “God, but you’re a bossy bottom,” Zach says, but he’s grinning. He grabs a different tube of lube this time, the standard one they use, and slathers Chris’s hole. “Ready?”

 “Do it rough,” Chris asks, and he’s getting close to begging. “Please?”

 “That’s better,” Zach says. “But maybe ask a little nicer.”

It’s stratospherically hot, this whole thing, and Chris pretty much starts babbling until Zach, judging by the fire in his eyes, can’t hold himself back anymore, and thrusts a well-lubricated finger deep into Chris’s ass. Hard and firm and just the way Chris wanted it. Chris whines and writhes and squeezes at his cock around its metal core.

 “If you flop around like that, I’ll stop,” Zach warns. Chris freezes. “Better. How’s your cock doing?”

 “Great,” Chris says, strangled.

Zach gets another finger inside him and starts working him, teasing near his prostate, never quite touching it. “Bet you never knew your cock was this desperate, did you?”

 “No, I did _not_ ,” Chris replies with fervor.

 “You really should thank me,” Zach points out. “All this effort, just to feed your dick for you.”

 “Just for me,” Chris manages to gasp out. The idea is delightful. Just for him.

Zach is leaning over him now, fingers still firmly in place, and Chris can’t look away from him. “Just for you,” he says, with the merest hint of melancholy, but before Chris can really process it, Zach’s fingertips slide over exactly the right spot, and he’s being stimulated from every which way at once.

 “ _Fuck._ ” He’s never felt anything like it before, his nerves firing without overloading, the sensations bolting through him like he’s been struck by a very sexy form of lightning.

Zach withdraws his fingers, adds a third, and pushes back in. “Oh, my God,” he murmurs. “You’ve never opened up this easily for me before. All you needed was your cock filled up. Am I right?”

Chris nods.

 “Tell me,” Zach says, his fingertips just shy of where Chris _needs_ them.

 “You’re right.”

 “Oh, baby. You know what I want to hear.”

 _Goddamn him_ , Chris thinks, but he says it. “All I needed was my cock filled up, Zach.” And then he adds, “By _you_.”

He’s rewarded twice over: by Zach’s soundless _Oh_ , and by Zach’s fingers touching him where he needs to be touched, where they match the vibrations in his cock for a blissful moment, bringing him right to the edge—and then they withdraw.

 “Don’t stop—please—”

 “I could stand to hear you begging a little more,” Zach tells him. He’s right up in Chris’s face, watching every flicker of his eyelashes, every twitch of his mouth. “Just to make sure you really mean it.”

Chris manages to give a cheeky smirk and gasp out: “Any particular tune you want me to sing?” Zach sits back on his knees. He keeps his fingers where they are, and they’re not moving any higher. “Come on, baby,” Chris whines. “You know I love it when you fuck me.”

 “Turn it up.”

 “What?”

 “Turn up the vibration.”

 “Why?”

Zach smiles. “You’re stalling, but I’ll play. Why? Because I want to watch you taking it. And because I want to watch its effect on you.”

 “You and your experiments,” Chris mumbles, and then wonders if he should have said that. Zach’s fingers press back into him until he groans.

 “You should be thankful for my experiments,” Zach chides, but he’s still smiling.

Thank fuck, Chris thinks. The last thing they need is a blow-up right in the middle of current activities. “I give thanks every day for your experiments,” he manages, and then he does as he’s told and turns the nut another increment. “Oh, _fuuu…_ ”

Zach crawls back over him until they’re just about nose-to-nose, somehow keeping his hand packed inside Chris’s ass. “You look good like this.”

 “I can’t take much more.”

 “Sure you can.”

 “I’m gonna come.”

 “No, you’re not.”

Chris doesn’t know why Zach sounding so damn sure of it should make any difference, but it does. “Okay,” he agrees, one hand on his dick, which is pulsing away to the beat of the vibrating sound, and the other now on Zach’s face, tracing his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips. It must be costing Zach a lot of effort to stay balanced like he is on one straight arm, but he’s not showing it. His fingers are as true as ever, teasing and retreating. Shallow, then deep. Deeper. Chris feels like no other human being has ever been this deep inside him, nor he in another, sinking like a stone into a deep, still lake.

Something is happening. It’s not an orgasm. It’s an epiphany. It's....oh. “So that's what it is,” he says quietly.

Zach’s eyebrows draw down in confusion. “What?”

But Chris can’t respond anymore. It’s taking all his willpower just to take what Zach is giving him. Chris pulls Zach down to kiss him, to suck his tongue, to draw it into his mouth.

Zach wrenches his mouth away. “Careful,” he says, breathing hard. “I need to concentrate. Don’t wanna…” What he doesn’t wanna, Chris never finds out. “Baby, are you _crying?_ ”

Zach’s fingers find his most sensitive place again, and there’s no way Chris can avoid it. Not this time. His mouth drops open and his eyes squeeze shut on his tears. He arches underneath Zach, and his climax sweeps through him like a tidal wave. There is no stopping it, even when Zach tugs his fingers free and, with his other hand, awkwardly turns off the vibrating sound.

 “No, no, no,” Zach is saying, flustered. Chris can’t worry at all, can only lie there and feel Zach gliding the metal shaft out of his cock, and then the warm, wet spill of his come dripping on his stomach. “I told you not to,” Zach sighs, as though Chris is an exuberant puppy who has messed on the carpet.

Chris chuckles, even though he’s blinking away the wet in his eyes. “Too late.”

 “Are you—are you okay?”

 “Yup.”

 “You seemed like…I thought for a second you were _crying_.” He huffs a small, embarrassed _heh_. Chris runs a finger over Zach’s quizzical lips and smiles back, a genuine smile.

 “I was,” he says simply.

Zach flushes. “Well, anyway,” he says, looking down at Chris’s dick, “this is a problem. You weren’t supposed to come with the sound in you.”

 “Nah. It’s fine. It all came out when you took the sound out.”

Zach bends to lick up the small puddle on Chris’s stomach. “That,” he says firmly, “is nowhere near your normal rate of production. Which means—”

 “How do you even _know_ that, man?”

“Experiments,” Zach tells him. “And experience.”

 “So I squirted the wrong way. Big deal. I wanna suck your dick. Scoot up here.”

“You need to go take a piss as soon as possible, or else—”

Chris sits up immediately, pushing Zach out of the way. “Jeez, I’m going, I’m going. You don’t want your dick sucked, that’s your prerogative.” He stops at the door of the en suite and looks back. “Coming?” Zach pads after him, pulling off his latex gloves and balling them up neatly. Chris holds up a hand. “Lose the underoos.”

 “What?” Zach looks down at his briefs. “Why?”

 “Just do it. You’ve wet them through, anyhow.” What he says is true: Zach’s cock has been leaking so much the white cotton is practically see-through. “And then come help me.”

 “Why were you…” Zach slowly pulls down his underwear. “You said you were crying before, and now you’re all…” He waves a hand.

 “Just come in here, would you?” Chris has no intention of wasting this come-happy buzz on arguing with Zach, not to mention the sudden realization that he’s in deep. _Way_ deep. On the contrary, Chris is hoping to use it to clear up things once and for all. “You want me to pee, right?”

 “Yeah.”

 “And you like to watch, right?”

Zach, if possible, goes pinker, but nods. “Yeah.”

 “Then come on, Professor Quinto. Come make your observations.”

Zach scratches at his elbow; a phantom itch, Chris is willing to bet, just so he can place a protective arm across his body. His dick is still full, but not as hard as he was when he had Chris underneath him, fucking him with a steel rod. Chris jerks his head in a _come on_ gesture, and Zach follows him into the bathroom.

Chris waits in front of the toilet and neatly folds his hands behind his back. “It’s not gonna aim itself, Quinto,” he says, grinning, and Zach regains some of his swagger.

 “You can wait till I’m good and ready,” he says, and swats at Chris’s butt. But he wastes no time snuggling up behind Chris, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his neck. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. Just thought you should know.”

Chris has already got one hand on Zach’s cock, encouraging his hard-on, but with the other, he reaches back to cup Zach’s head and pull him round to kiss. It’s awkward, and messy, and not-quite-square—a little like their whole relationship, Chris thinks.

 “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs. “And that brings me to my point—”

 “Pee first. Talk later.”

 “Pretty sure Doctor Phil would never give that advice.”

 “I’m serious, you need to—”

 “God almighty, alright, let’s do it.” He’s exasperated, but grinning. Zach can clearly see something has changed; Chris is usually pretty cheerful after sex, but not quite so ebullient. “Come on. Help a guy out.”

Zach gives him a suspicious look, but kisses his temple, right next to his eyebrow, and takes up Chris’s dick in his hands. Chris feels a thrill run through him. Zach’s cock is pressed up against his ass, sitting in the cleft like they were made to slot into each other, and it’s hard again. Thank God for the refractory period, Chris thinks, or else he’d be filling out himself, and it would make all this much more difficult.

 “Okay,” Zach says, when he’s happy with the aim. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Chris slides his hands over Zach’s, and says, “You know, you could fuck me here if you wanted. Like this.” It’s supposed to be a declaration of sorts, an _I love you and your kinks to death you dumbass and here’s proof_ , but he has to tighten his grip when Zach tries to move away. “No?”

 “Uh,” Zach says. “How about we just do this?”

Chris frowns. He’d _thought_ he was on to something. “Tell me again why you like doing this so much?” he asks.

 “Just—just do it, and then we can talk.”

 “I _am_ doing it. I need to relax a bit, though. Hence: chatting.”

Zach presses his close-lipped mouth into Chris’s shoulder for a moment, staring at his hands holding Chris’s cock. He mumbles something.

 “Say again?” Chris prompts.

 “I like knowing you. All of you.”

 “You ever do this before? The helping? The other kinks?”

 “What does it matter?” Zach asks, and he sounds irritated now. “Focus on the job at hand, Pine.”

So Chris does, if only because he doesn’t want Zach to feel teased. He lets Zach hold him and aim his stream and press up gently into his taint again, just like last time, and shake him off, and even flush. They both wash their hands, and Chris flicks water at Zach. “So here’s the thing,” he says. “I know you might find it easier to _pretend_ to be objective experiment guy, but I’m pretty sure that there’s a purpose behind that persona.”

 “Oh, yeah?” Zach says casually. He saunters back into the bedroom and starts tidying things away, puts the used sound in a plastic Ziploc bag, folds up the rest.

 “I think it’s a cover-up, Quinto. And not a great one, let’s be real.” Zach looks at him. “You value me. _Cherish_ me, even. That’s okay, you know. It’s okay to feel that way. That’s what all this experimenting stuff about, right?” Chris tries to keep the shit-eating grin off his face, because he knows how annoying it can be. Zach’s told him enough times. “So okay, you’re trying to keep some distance. But you don’t need to cover up how much you value these times. How much you value _me_.”

Zach is still just looking at him.

 “Say something.”

 “You are un-fucking-believable sometimes,” Zach says. There’s no real heat behind the words, but they still come like a punch to Chris’s gut. Zach turns his back and continues to clean up. “Thank you for your permission to care about you, I guess.”

There are two ways Chris can respond; he chooses the wiser path. “Hey,” he says gently. “Hey, look at me. _Zach._ ”

Zach swings around, and Chris doesn’t miss the tired roll of his eyes. “What?”

 “We’re going to have to talk about this some time, you know. Whatever it is that’s so far up your—” Perhaps not. “Whatever it is that’s wrong,” he amends.

 “Maybe some time when we’re both fully dressed,” Zach says, and zips up the sounds case. Chris takes note of the tacit agreement that something _is_ wrong.

Chris walks over and takes the case out of Zach’s hands, then covers Zach’s hands with his own. “How about now,” he says. “I mean it. This shit is getting me down. I don’t want this to be how we are.”

Finally, Zach’s composure is starting to crack. “How, exactly, _are_ we, Chris?”

 “You tell me. You’ve obviously had something on your mind for a while. What’s going on? You’re happy to tell me if my jeans are riding too low or if I have spinach in my teeth or if I put on too much aftershave. But you can’t tell me this? Something real? I just…” He didn’t think, when he came over tonight, that he would be laying down ultimatums. Certainly not delivering ultimatums clutching a case of sounds while naked and right after suggesting Zach fuck him up the ass over a toilet. But if not now, when? “I just don’t get it. Your notes. Your _experiments_. I need to know. Now. Tonight.”

Zach starts tossing the bed pillows aside and Chris knows what he’s looking for: pajama pants. They happen to be in the laundry hamper. Chris keeps quiet. Eventually, Zach stops messing around on the bed and says, “It’s nothing. I’ll stop if it bugs you so bad.”

 “But what’s it _for?_ ”

Zach clutches at the back of his neck with one hand and waves the other around, like he’s dismissing Chris’s concerns. “It’s _nothing_. I _told_ you.”

 “But—”

 “It’s nothing, it doesn’t mean _anything!_ It’s just an experiment!”

The words seem to echo, bouncing around the four walls and between them. Chris has never heard Zach so agitated, so raw. Zach is embarrassed by the outburst, all his muscles tight and tense from his toes to his forehead. He’s chewing on his thumbnail and he won’t look at Chris.

And then Chris gets it. He gives a short bark of laughter, and rubs a hand roughly across his mouth. He has to lick his lips after that, and Zach can’t stop himself watching. Just like he watches and observes and catalogues every other reaction Chris has.

 “Oh. Oh, wow,” Chris says. “You’re not talking about you, are you? You’re talking about _me_.”

Zach takes a deep breath. “Chris, I can’t do this right now.”

 “Little late for that. No take-backsies. Not when you say something like that.” Chris isn’t quite sure how to feel. On the one hand, he’s finally figured it out. On the other, that’s some hurtful fucking bullshit Zach has been thinking about him. “You think I’m just experimenting with you,” he continues flatly. “And so, what—you decided you’d do the same?”

 “That’s not—that’s not how it was.”

 “All those times I said I loved you or I wanted you to fuck me or—”

 “It wasn’t like that, I _swear_.”

“Meaningless. Right? Because I’m just fooling around. _Experimenting_.”

 “Listen— _please_ just listen for a second—”

Chris wants to say _Fuck you_ , or _Fuck you, seriously_ , or _Fuck you completely, Quinto, you can suck your own dick from now on_. But he’s still glowing inside from his orgasmic epiphany of what he realized was actually love, the real deal, the big one, and besides—he always does what Zach asks him to do. Maybe it’s ingrained now, that pleasure comes when he goes along with Zach’s plans. So he listens, but he keeps a back up _Fuck you_ ready on the tip of his tongue.

When it becomes evident that Chris actually _is_ listening, though, Zach seems to have lost his words. He opens and shuts his mouth and rubs at his eyes and then: “Can we get dressed?” he asks finally. “I mean, we’re obviously going to have this conversation and I’d feel a little less vulnerable without my balls hanging out.”

Chris shrugs, but nods. Zach keeps giving him nervous glances, like he’s afraid Chris will suddenly leave or explode or disappear in a puff of smoke. He pulls on clothes without even looking at them, but ends up more or less in the kind of outfit he usually wears: jeans, a ratty old blue tank, and a gray and purple striped cardigan that Chris has eyeballed himself once or twice. It’s so quintessentially Quinto that Chris finds his hurt softening, leaching out of him like there’s some festering sore in him that’s been lanced.

Chris puts on the same clothes he wore here, crumpled and faintly smelling of his own sweat, and then he follows Zach through to the kitchen. Zach pulls a couple of microbrewery beers out of the fridge for them, and they stand there opposite each other, taking a few swigs each, before Chris says, “Your balls safely stowed?”

Zach snorts, and then coughs, and has to wipe his mouth on a dishtowel. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I got some ‘splaining to do, huh, Lucy?” Mercifully, he doesn’t attempt a Desi Arnaz impression.

Chris drinks down a third of his beer and then says, “So what the fuck, man?”

 “Okay.” Zach gives a big sigh. “First of all, you were right, which makes me a douchebag of epic proportions.”

 “Epic is the word,” Chris agrees. “Jesus fuck. I mean, it’s not even subtle enough for it to be Freudian. And that, my friend, is saying something.”

Zach gets this cringey look, and puts his bottle down on the countertop. “Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I know that. I knew it before, even, but I just didn’t want to believe I could be so…”

“Faithless? Selfish? Mistrustful? Biphobic, maybe?”

 “All of that,” Zach admits, clenching his jaw.

 “Not flattering to me, either,” Chris says casually and takes a casual swallow of beer before setting his own bottle down casually.

 “I really am sorry. I’ve thought a lot about it and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s partly about some of my internalized…no?” Chris is shaking his head. Zach says, “No. You’re right. Going into detail about my issues isn’t a great idea.”

 “Not right now,” Chris agrees, and he keeps his voice even and calm. “Not when this is about you apologizing to me for being a jackass. Let’s stick with that for now.” God, his mom would be so proud of him, being all emotionally healthy and shit. Focusing on discussion rather than hurling angry words. Even if he _does_ feel like it would be a fairer trade to excise Zach’s heart with a butter knife and squish it underfoot.

He still might do that, too.

“Makes it sound like I’m giving excuses, doesn’t it?” Zach grimaces, and thinks for a second. When he looks up, he fixes Chris with a steady, sincere gaze and says, “What I really want you to know is that I’m sorry, and I recognize that was some toxic shit I said before, and it was totally unfair to you.”

Chris’s shoulders and neck must have been tensed up, because once Zach says that, he feels them relaxing. He drops his head and rolls it shoulder to shoulder, relishing the stretch. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

Zach says carefully, “Do you accept my apology?”

 “I do.” He picks up his beer again and makes a _cheers_ gesture. “Come on, Zach. If I’ll accept stainless steel in my dick from you, of course I’ll accept a freaking apology.”

The smile Zach gives is nervy, pained, like he has a toothache but is making polite with the dentist before a root canal. “So,” he says. “Are we—are we—”

 “Are we what?”

 “ _Where_ are we? Are we through? B—breaking up?”

Chris chokes on beer and coughs up foam. “Uh, no?” he says hoarsely, after Zach has moved swiftly to him and whacked him on the back. “No, we are not. Not in the least. Dumbass.”

 “Don’t do that again, okay?” Zach looks genuinely worried. “I don’t want you dying here on the kitchen floor. The studio would kill me. Your _mom_ would kill me.”

Chris coughs again and says, “Breathplay off the list. Got it.” He clears his throat. He wants things to be right between them, but there are still too many unknowns. “No, we’re not through. Unless you want to be through. No? Good. I mean, I wasn’t sure we were totally _on_ —”

 “Oh, we were on,” Zach says. “Definitely on. And we’re still, you know. On.”

Somehow both of them have lost the ability to communicate fluently in their native tongue. Chris takes another swig at his beer, and tries to sort out his thoughts. “Next question: what’s with the kink? I like it, don’t get me wrong, but you really pulled out all the stops—oh—wait, I get it. I get it.”

Zach scrunches up his face.

 “Have you been reading _Cosmo_ sex tips?” Chris continues. “‘Give your guy the best sex of his life and he’ll never forget you!’ Right? Really, Zachary. I should be offended all over again.”

But Zach is trying to suppress an amused, almost gleeful smile. “Best sex of your life?” he asks in answer to Chris’s raised eyebrows—and then as Chris opens his mouth, Zach adds, “Nuh-uh. No take-backsies.”

Chris can’t argue with that, so he chuckles instead. He leans over the countertop on his forearms. “No take-backsies,” he says. “Best sex of my life. But it’s not just about the sex, Zach. Maybe—maybe we did things the wrong way around.”

Maybe they did, although it seemed to work at the time. The uncomplicated handjobs during 10-hour flights. Drunk in Berlin and no one else around when it came time to head back to the hotel. Between relationships. After break-ups. _Hey, I’ve always wanted to try bondage, what do you say?_ Easy to fall into each other while never having to back it up with any kind of commitment. Chris had wondered occasionally, but beat the thought into submission. It was easy. Easier to let Zach insert all manner of things into Chris’s body than actually lay out rules of engagement for their hearts.

He says, “I mean, I love you, man. You know?”

Zach gives him this frightened-deer stare, like he sees a semi-trailer headed right for him and he can’t move. So Chris steps around the island bench and takes Zach’s hands—his wrists, actually, because Zach instinctively pulls back and Chris ends up clutching at him, drawing him back in gently, pleading with his eyes and a hopeful smile and a soft, “Can I just hold you for a while?”

Zach gives a nod and lets Chris come in close, winding arms around his neck. Chris can feel Zach’s heart beating next to his own, and under his hands on Zach’s back, drumming out a pattern that gets steadier the longer they hold on to each other. “I think we’ve been kind of dumb,” Chris murmurs into Zach’s neck.

Zach gives a long, deep sigh and nods, his stubble spiking into Chris’s cheek. Chris welcomes the sting. “I…I feel the same way you do. The love thing. I—goddamn it, why is this so _hard_ —”

Chris lifts his head and says gently, “You tell me. What’s so scary about it?”

Zach’s mouth is trembling and he can’t stop blinking. “I assumed from the start we were heading for an end. That the whole thing was finite and that I’d never have to even worry about love. I thought if I tracked it, maybe I’d see the point where it stopped working between us and at least then I’d know it was coming. The end.” He clears his throat. “And maybe you were right,” he adds hoarsely. “Maybe I do cherish you.”

 “That’s not a _bad_ thing.”

 “It is when you think it’s not reciprocal.”

Chris kisses him, keeping it tender and soft. For now. When Zach has stopped feeling so twitchy, Chris asks, “Will you show me your notes?”

Zach stiffens again, but says, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

 “Like, only if it’s okay.”

Zach gives a half-smile. “Like, it’s totes okay.”

 “Shut the fuck up and show me, jerk.”

 “God, you’re so loving.” Zach pauses after he says it, his lips pursed, and Chris kisses them.

 “Yeah, I am. So come on.”

Zach’s notes are still mystifying, even when Chris understands the purpose behind them. They start out with numbers and symbols:

10

100

1 000 000

48 727 375 644++++

>>>>>>> ∞

 

Then there are graphs with wavy, suddenly exponential lines and no labels on the axes, no values, nothing to show what they actually measure. After a while the numbers give way to words, or something approximating words. These parts are what caught Chris’s eye the one time he peeked, but they make no more sense now. Zach’s scribbles range from cramped and tiny in page corners to scrawled masses over a double page, and Chris can’t make out a single word of them.

 “They’re not really supposed to be readable,” Zach says. “Um. They just represent what I believed to be your state of mind.”

God, Chris thinks. It’s so Zach he wants to groan. His state of mind after fucking is an enormous, senseless squiggle?

Actually. It fits.

 “This is indeed an accurate representation of my soul after you shove hardware down my dick,” he says gravely, tapping on the most recent ginormous scrawl. “And it kind of reassures me that you weren’t _actually_ keeping painstaking notes about me.”

 “Just impressions,” Zach says. “But the thing is—when I said I wanted to know you, all of you, I meant it. The kink stuff, it’s just a means to an end. It always has been. It wasn’t only about making you stay. Enticing you into my flashy gay web.”

 “But I mean, the flashy gay web is pretty great. Bouncy. Shiny rhinestones.” Chris tosses the notebook aside. “So I’m thinking I should blow you now.”

 “Um,” Zach says.

“Sometimes you’re so weird about me getting you off, _actively_ getting you off, not just letting you do stuff or taking your cock. And I mean, your dick in my mouth would at least be objective proof of my want for it, right? You could make first-hand observations about how desperate I am to suck it. How much I want to taste you at the back of my throat. Choking me with it—” Zach cuts him off with a savage kiss, until Chris is laughing into his mouth.

“Seriously, though,” he continues, once they’ve re-relocated to the bedroom. “I wanna blow you, and then I wanna have an in depth discussion about exactly what the fuck this whole thing is, so we both know exactly where we stand and whether we’re now obligated to argue over whose family to spend the holidays with. Deal?”

 “ _So_ much deal,” Zach says fervently. “And I promise not to be such a jerk in future.”

Chris takes up Zach’s hand. It’s still cold from the beer, so he slides Zach’s first two fingers into his mouth and tongues them. Zach curls them instinctively and Chris moans, draws them out of his lips with an audible _pop_. “I don’t know,” Chris says, glancing up at him from under his lashes. Zach always liked that particular look. “There’s a time and a place to be a jerk. Don’t purge yourself of that part of your personality _completely_.”

 “Oh, really?” Zach asks.

 “Really. Like if you were fucking my face, say, and I couldn’t stop the tears because I was maybe choking a little on it, and—”

 “Pine,” Zach breaks in. “You’re just asking for trouble.”

 “I am,” Chris agrees, and pulls him in for a kiss. Afterwards, he asks, “How about it? Can I blow you or not?”

Zach’s mouth twitches. “Can I be a jerk about it?”

 “What do you think?” Chris purrs, and tugs at Zach’s waistband.

 “Nuh uh.” Zach catches his wrists. At Chris’s pout, he turns him around and pats his ass. “Not here. Back to the bedroom. March.”

 “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” Chris can’t help grinning. Zach is at his best like this, when he’s confident, sure of himself. Commanding. Masterly, even. “You know,” Chris says, as they reach the bedroom, “we should get some standard safewords in place. Then you could _really_ go to town.”

 “Always thinking ahead, Pine,” Zach says, and sucks at Chris’s neck fiercely. “One of the many things I love about you. If you want me to stop with what I’m about to do, tell me to stop and I will. But yeah, we can talk out safewords later.”

Chris gulps down air like it’s running out, and nods. Zach’s hands are on either side of his face, pressing into his temples like he wants to get inside his head. “One of the many things?” Chris manages to ask. “What else?”

 “I love the way you’re so desperate for adoration,” Zach tells him, and his smile is hungry but affectionate.

“Desperate for your dick, too,” Chris mumbles. “Thought we were going to—”

 “Did you mean it before? Fucking your face till you choke on it? Cry?”

 “Hell, yeah. I meant every word. Give it to me.”

Zach lets him go and grabs at his shirt, tugging it up. “Off. I want you naked. And you can kneel on this—” He tosses one of the bed pillows onto the floor, then raises his eyebrow expectantly at Chris. “Well? What do you say?”

 “Thank you, Zachary, for thinking of my knees.”

 “Don’t want to wear them out too fast,” Zach agrees. “You’ll be on them a lot from now on. Why aren’t you naked yet?”

Chris undresses with alacrity, and about fifteen seconds later he’s kneeling and nuzzling into Zach’s denim-covered crotch. He grabs the zipper between his teeth and tugs it down, the vibrations reverberating through his skull, and then pulls open the button at the top. Zach always smells so good to him, even post-workout; Chris has always assumed it’s a pheromone thing. The scent of him now is perfect: musky, tangy, totally sexy. A hint of something chemical, like antiseptic or lube. No underwear, for which Chris gives thanks. Zach is half-hard and growing. Chris scoops his cock out, tugging impatiently at the jeans until they allow enough access and opens his mouth wide, ready to stuff it full of dick.

“Wait,” Zach says, and puts a finger on Chris’s nose. “Just like that, mouth open. Good. Wait.”

The stretch in his jaw kind of hurts after a few seconds, and Chris can feel saliva pooling under his tongue. But he waits, eyes wide, mouth wide, until Zach removes his fingertip.

“Proceed,” Zach says, and Chris dives at him.

It’s not that Zach has _never_ let Chris blow him. It’s just that most of the time it’s been Zach’s mouth on Chris’s cock, and Zach has got himself off shooting on Chris’s stomach, or his chest, or his face. And Chris has something to prove, here. He’s not above keeping notes himself, mentally at least, and he has definitely kept a tally of how many times he’s sucked Zach’s dick. Frankly, the number is embarrassingly low. Also, last time he did it, Zach said, “Thank you. That was really nice,” afterwards.

 _Nice,_ for fuck’s sake.

No more, Chris vows, and especially not now that he knows what Zach’s been thinking. Equal opportunity blowjobs are key to healthy, reciprocal relationships. He’s sure he’s read that somewhere.

He pushes his mouth down on Zach’s dick as far as he can and feels Zach growing inside him, filling him up, stretching him. God, he’d give a lot to feel that everywhere else, too. He pulls off for a second and says, “Maybe one time we could try the sounds while I’m— _ow!_ ”

Zach has grabbed a handful of his hair, and is tipping his face up. “Pine, believe me, I want to hear all about every dirty fantasy you have, and all the terrible things you want me to do to you, but right now you have one job. One job that doesn’t require talking unless you want to ask me to stop.”

Chris gives him a wide, wet smile. He can feel the spit shining on his chin. He nods, and opens his mouth obediently, clutching at the backs of Zach’s thighs.

 “Much better,” Zach says. “You talk too much.” But there’s a twinkle in his eye that makes Chris laugh, and then choke on the cock plunging back into his mouth.

It’s good. Yes. He _wants_ to be so full of Zach that he chokes, wants to have every part of him filled up, marked, owned—God, he’s getting hard again. He palms his dick for a little relief. It still feels sensitive in the way it does after sounding, kind of tingly on the inside, tender and slightly raw. He loves it as much as he loves the feel of Zach’s cock lying heavy on his tongue.

Zach thrusts into his mouth, just once, like he’s testing the waters, and Chris moans. “You were right, baby,” Zach pants. “I should have been using your mouth like this every time.”

In a show of agreement, Chris takes a deep breath and forces himself down further, further still, until his nose is tickled by Zach’s happy trail. His throat is quivering around Zach’s dick and his eyes are watering. He tips back slowly so he can look up at Zach, who is gazing at him, lips slightly apart and forming that natural O-shape that drives Chris out of his mind. Zach is staring so hard at him that Chris would blush if he could, if he weren’t already flushed and red from the effort of stuffing his face down on Zach’s cock.

Zach reaches out a tender finger to dab at the tear trickling from the corner of Chris’s eye, watching Chris’s face closely as he does so. He brushes a thumb along the crease between Chris’s brows, where Chris is damp with perspiration, and then sucks on his fingers thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he says. “There are a whole new set of observations I can make of you deep-throating me.”

Chris pulls back, gasping, and immediately tries to take him again, but Zach puts his wet fingertip on Chris’s nose once more and says, “Wait.” He strokes his dick with his other hand while he watches Chris panting for breath, and then trails his cockhead around Chris’s mouth like he’s painting his lips with precome. “You want it?” he asks, and Chris nods, enough to shake off Zach’s finger.

This time, Zach really doesn’t hold back. He grabs Chris on either side of his head and fucks into his mouth like the idea of teeth hasn’t even crossed his mind. It’s about all Chris can do to simply take it, to keep his throat relaxed enough to let Zach slide into it, to figure out a way to breathe between thrusts, to stifle his gag reflex.

Christ, he loves it, though. His own dick is pulsing in his hand. Zach is deep inside him.

Zach pulls out again. “I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice only wavering slightly on the last word. “You want it? Sure?”

Chris nods vigorously.

 “You can talk now,” Zach says, and slaps Chris’s face with his cock. Chris gasps, and Zach does it again. “Yeah, you like that? Tell me you want it. I want to hear you begging for it.” He cock-slaps Chris again, a wet smack against his cheek, and Chris moans this time.

 “I want it,” he says, his voice hoarse from having his throat fucked. He blinks a few more tears out of his eyes. “I love it when you stuff me full. Come on, baby, do it, unload it deep in me. Fill me up.” It might not be the most articulate dirty talk that’s ever fallen from his lips, but hey, whatever works.

And boy, does it ever work. Zach grips his hair so hard that Chris yelps, but he willingly takes Zach’s cock back into his mouth, cramming him down like he’s going for a world record of some kind. Zach only needs another three seconds before he lets out a cry, and he’s coming, flooding until Chris thinks he’s going to overflow with it. He swallows as much as he can, and then he has to let it spill out of his mouth as he coughs and pulls off.

Zach drops to his knees like he’s overcome and starts licking at Chris’s face, cleaning him of the tears, the salt, the spit, the jizz all over his chin. Chris is coughing and laughing and moaning all at once, trying to kiss back and failing.

 “Fuck, Pine,” Zach says at last, breathing heavily, and right into Chris’s face so Chris gets the scent of spunk and spit and sweat gusting right into his face. “You are one messy fucker, you know that?”

 “ _You_ messed me!” Chris says, and he tries for indignant but lands at chuckling. “Anyway, thanks for drowning me in your come.”

 “You asked me for it,” Zach protests, and pulls at Chris until they’re both lying supine on the floor, tangled up in each other, heads half on the pillow.

 “I _begged_ you for it,” Chris corrects him, and then they’re kissing again, strangely sweet and gentle, and Zach’s lips are warm and soft. “So in your scientific opinion, how would you rate my reaction to that experiment?”

Zach gives a laugh, and Chris is relieved. He needs to be able to tease Zach about that stuff. He needs to be able to tease Zach, period. It’s how they work. “Off the charts,” Zach murmurs, petting Chris’s dick. Chris has drooped a little, but he could pick up again with a little effort.

Then again, they should probably talk.

 “We should probably talk,” Zach says.

“Probably. Yeah.”

 “You want to get off again before we do?” Zach asks, a little too hopefully.

 “Like, I do, yeah?” Chris says. “But I think I mostly want to avoid talking, so maybe we should talk, and then worry about my dick.”

“Discussion over dick action? I feel like this is personal growth for you, Pine,” Zach murmurs, and then grins at Chris’s expression. “Okay,” he admits, “and the same goes for me. What can I say, I’m a guy. I’d rather not talk it out if I can avoid it.”

 “Be brave,” Chris says. “I’ll hold your hand.”

He threads his fingers through Zach’s and smiles.

 

***

 

_~*~One month later.~*~_

 

“Hold _still_ ,” Zach says sharply.

 “I _am_ holding still.”

 “You’re squirming around like a puppy.”

 “I have a _cock_ in my _ass_. Of course I’m gonna be squirming.”

Zach gives a longsuffering sigh, but Chris just grins down at him. Zach is flat on his back on the bed, and Chris is riding him, cowboy style. The logistics of this whole fantasy have been tricky, but Chris is pretty sure it’s going to work. Hole A is packed, at least: Chris is sitting right on Zach’s dick, filled up with cock and enjoying the rub on his prostate as he rocks back and forth. Phase one, complete.

 “I’m not putting a steel shaft anywhere near your cock if you don’t hold still,” Zach says firmly, and Chris stops rocking.

 “You’re no fun.”

Zach snorts a laugh. “What in the fuck do you call all these toys if not fun?” He waves his hand around at the sounds, the gags, the restraints, the chains—and Chris just grins wider.

 “Time for the gag,” he says, and makes grabby hands.

Zach passes him the cock-gag: a cute two-inch rubber dick attached to straps. It was the appropriately named Mr. Jismlips Cocksucker’s rave review on the website that made Chris desperate to try it, and it arrived that morning, smelling of latex and leather. “Perfect,” Chris had breathed, when they took it out of the box. He’d looked up at Zach. “Tonight?” And Zach had nodded.

It’s been a while since they’ve done anything with the sounds. After their Big Talk About Feelings, as Chris repeatedly refers to it, they decided to concentrate on the relationship side of the relationship for a while, which was nice and all, but.

But Chris is actually really happy that they’re starting up with the kinky sex again. He’s fond of saying that it’s the glue of their relationship, although whenever he does, Zach merely raises his eyebrows and gives a small smile. Now here they are at last, about to fulfill one of Chris’s hottest fantasies, which he hasn’t been able to get out of his mind for thirty-one days. Not since the last time they used the sounds.

 “See?” Chris says now, and gives one more waggle of his cock-crammed butt. “Glue.”

 “Lube, one would _hope_ ,” Zach says. “Do you want to fasten the gag or will I?”

 “Trying to shut me up?”

 “Yes. Yes, I am.”

 “Bite me. I’ll do it.” Chris pops the rubber cock into his mouth and buckles the straps at the back of his head. He tries to say, “Awesome,” around it, but it comes out garbled.

Hole B is successfully filled.

Zach sighs and gives a smile. “Peace at last. Can you breathe okay?”

There’s a hole through the middle of the cock, so yes, Chris can breathe, although it just reminds him that _his_ cock has a hole in it too, which needs loading. Zach is still waiting for his answer. He nods.

 “Good,” Zach says. “Now seriously, hold still, and try to go a bit limp, will you? This is an awkward enough angle without you being hard while I do it.”

Hole C took some convincing and some planning, but Chris was adamant: he wanted to try the sensation of having every bit of him jammed full of Zach, or at least Zach-related accoutrements. Zach had a lot of demands and a lot of conditions and a lot of boundaries around the whole thing, most of which boiled down to being really fucking careful, but finally, _finally_ they’re doing it.

These sounds are specifically kink-purposed, hollow and thick like the Hegars but with subtle curves in them that Chris is looking forward to feeling. Zach bluntly refused to use the rosebuds or the Van Burens, and after the last time, hollow sounds were the only option Zach would consider.

 “We just have to face it, baby: you can’t control your cock,” he’d murmured into Chris’s ear as they sat perusing strange and sometimes disturbing websites. “So it’s hollow or nothing for this fantasy of yours. No way you’ll be able to stop yourself.”

Chris had wriggled in pleased embarrassment and let Zach guide his finger on the track pad to hover the mouse over the hollow sounds on the screen. Click: Purchase. Confirm Paypal. Done.

Now one of those hollow sounds is making its slow, smooth way inside him, fed into his cock by Zach’s sure hands. Zach threads him quickly and easily, down to the nub that’s supposed to keep it _in situ_ in Chris’s cock, and then strokes at his balls until Chris gets hard around the metal core. If Chris could talk, he’d be babbling out his thanks. He settles for a loud moan in the back of his throat.

Hole C: stuffed.

They’ve watched a lot of sounding videos together in the intervening month. Chris routinely gets so into watching other guys take bigger, wider things in their dicks than he’d ever contemplate that he has to pause them after a minute or two and go down on Zach: determinedly, cheerfully and enthusiastically. Zach hasn’t once called his beej technique _nice_. Nasty, slutty, desperate; yes. It just gets Chris hotter.

Right now, though, his mouth is glutted with the rubber Zach bought him. His nose is full of the smell of rawhide; his ass is crowded with cock. His dick is gorging on the sound, swallowing it back up eagerly every time Zach pulls it out. He’s never felt so full, so satisfied, so satiated, like he was starving for this and he never even knew it.

His hands, resting on Zach’s shoulders, grip tight. Zach winces, but his eyes are lighting up. “That’s right, baby. Hold on to me. Squeeze your ass while you’re at it, that talented hole of yours, I bet you could get me off just like this— _fuck_ —yeah, you _could_ —”

If Chris could talk, and if he could actually get the words together, he’d brag about what a great workout this whole fuck is, working all his important muscle groups and strengthening his core. But he can’t talk. All he can do is feel it, take it, give it, and it’s better than he even fantasized it would be. Watching Zach’s eyes go wide, flutter shut, roll back as Chris works at the cock in his ass…He has to be careful, can’t move too much, can’t risk jerking around with the sound in him. The guys on the videos they’ve watched together, they have no qualms about jacking themselves exuberantly around the metal rammed inside them, but the hotness of it is tempered by Chris’s desire to keep his dick in full working order.

But damn if it’s not a great memory, right next to the here-and-now sight of Zach underneath him, watching him, playing with the sound and encouraging him, calling him names and telling him how incredible his butthole feels—

When he comes, it starts to shoot out of the end of the sound, the hollow core doing the job it’s supposed to, but he’s coming so hard that he forces the rod out of him too, and it slips out, hits Zach on the chest, and rolls off to the side. Hole C, totally unplugged.

Zach stares at him, and Chris can only stare back, panting noisily through the cock-gag, his face feeling wet and his dick still trembling. Zach pushes the sound off the bed completely and then in one heroic move, lifts Chris bodily and turns them over on the bed. Somehow he keeps his cock firmly packed inside Hole A. It’s a damn impressive move, and Chris tries to smile, but his lips are constrained by the leather straps.

Doesn’t matter, anyway. Zach is too busy grabbing a handful of Chris’s hair to keep him in place and fucking into him, savage and rough, pounding so hard that Chris can only lie there and take it again, take it just like he took the sounding, just like he wants to take anything Zach will give him. Chris reaches up to embrace him, a gentle hand on the back of his shoulders, and just like that, Zach convulses and comes, stuttering and gasping and trying to say _Chris_ but not making it past the first consonant.

After a moment, Zach pulls out, holding on to the condom and sighing as Chris whimpers. Hole A, popped. Zach rolls, pulling them to their sides, and fumbles at the back of Chris’s head with the gag straps.

“ _Ahhhh,_ ” Chris moans, as Zach disengages the rubber cock. He works his jaw, stretching it out and Zach tries to help by massaging at his cheeks, and then kissing him. “Final hole,” Chris rasps at last. “Unplugged.”

Zach gives a chuckle. “You're more than your holes to me, baby. You know that, right?”

 “Better be.”

 “That was intense.”

 “Mm.” Chris's mind is going a million miles an hour, but his body is succumbing to lethargy. “I don't think you could get any deeper,” he says at last.

Zach gets it. “Yeah,” he says, and kisses Chris's closed eyes. “I think I reached your foundations.” He sounds--not shaken, but reverent.

 “Experiment a full success?” Chris asks. Zach blinks rapidly, and Chris rubs a thumb across his lips. “My scientoost,” he says.

 “God, still with that?”

 “Always and ever.”

They grin at each other. Love makes you dumb, Chris has found. Delightfully dumb.

 “Hey you know what else I've been thinking of?” he says. “Since I think we've done sounding now.”

 “Old hat,” Zach agrees. “What have you been thinking?”

Chris flutters his eyelashes. “So, you know how Skunk and Noah have those crates…”


End file.
